His Last Year
by Chamelaucium
Summary: Bilbo's diary in the year leading up to his departure. Detailing festivals to friends, romances to relatives, Bilbo documents his last year in the Shire. (Now Complete.)
1. Halimath

_**Halimath** _(September)

**Sterday 2nd:** I woke today feeling very weak. I struggled to breathe; I felt as if my body was no longer solid, as if I were starting to fade at the edges. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, and then the feeling vanished, leaving me as quickly as it had arrived. I called for Frodo, and he came quickly, dear lad that he is. I asked for tea and when he returned he looked at me quizzically. I assume the experience had left me looking as haggard as I felt.

I smiled to reassure him, but he didn't look convinced that I was alright. If truth be told, neither did I. This feeling has been coming upon me a lot as of late. I dismissed his fears, blaming it on the planning for our joint birthday this month. He laughed, and complained that this year isn't even important; what will it be like next year? In truth I do not know, and his words affected me more than I care to admit.

I feel it has something to do with the Ring. I find myself checking constantly that it is here, that I have it. I tried leaving it safely locked here in my room, but I could not focus. Now I wear it on a chain in my pocket, so it cannot fall out. But I have felt it – it is false, and would leave me, if it could.

But onto other matters. My mind is morbid as of late. I spent the rest of the day in the study with my pipe and a book. Nothing of interest happened, except some hobbit-lads outside trying to get at my plum tree. Ah, the plums – Sam says he shall make us a plum pudding soon, once the plums are fully ripe. Perhaps I shall take Frodo blackberry picking sometime. We have not done that in a while. The garden is glorious at this time of year. The apples and plums, the quinces and the pears… Sam and his gaffer should be proud.

But now I am tiring once again. I do seem to get tired so very easily, these days. Everyone says I don't look a day over fifty, but my bones are tired. I shall be 110 this year, and the body does not easily forget… but I'm rambling, as my mind is so wont to do now. I shall leave off here, as my bed is calling and I could do with a cup of tea before I retire.

* * *

**Trewsday 5th:** Gandalf has come! He arrived this morning, completely out of the blue - as usual. I sat in the kitchen with my tea, when suddenly I heard a great commotion on the main road. I looked out of the window, and saw a crowd of hobbit children gathering aroud a great wagon. Of course I saw his pointy hat, then, and knew then who it was. I couldn't help but smile. I went to the door to greet him.

Ah, Gandalf is indeed a dear friend. Who would have thought that a simple greeting, 'good morning,' as I greeted him 60 years ago, could have had such consequences? A party of dwarves eating me out of house and home, and going on an _adventure_… I remember the aversion I felt to that word! But now, I feel so stifled here. As a tween growing up, when I came of age, even as a nicely settled-down hobbit, Hobbiton was a dream, a paradise. Nowhere in existence was better. But after that dear confounded wizard and the troublesome, grumbling, wonderful dwarves turned up on my doorstep, the Shire has felt like a cage. I want to feel free again; to see mountains, and hear once again the sound of mighty rivers which put the Brandywine to shame, and rather ridicule the fear these hobbits have of water. For there are many other things to be afraid of and I worry that it is _here_, not abroad, that we should be looking for it.

Gandalf arrived on my doorstep, just like all those years ago, and I blew a smoke ring at him. I have practiced, and now I can get them to circle around my head. He laughed when he saw, and he remembered too, the smoke rings I blew that morning which I could just about get to float away around The Hill.

'It has been too long, dear Bilbo,' he said, his smile crinkling up his eyes.

'Indeed, Gandalf; your beard is looking greyer and I believe that is a new patch upon your hat!' I cried, for Gandalf always looks the same. He does not age, or is immortal, or something like that; I believe he told me once but I probably didn't listen.

We took tea together, and I told him of the weak feeling that has been plaguing me, of the need I feel to leave the Shire. He did not seem concerned and said it was probably just age catching up with me. He asked what I plan to do, if I do leave. I thought perhaps to visit the dwarves in Erebor again, or perhaps just wander and make up songs, but in this state I do not feel up to simply wandering!

He then suggested I go and stay in Rivendell again, renew my acquaintance with Elrond. In fact it had never occurred to me, but I see now that perhaps it would be good. A beautiful place in which to live out the rest of my days, or even just a few of them, where the air is different and sharper, where one can see mountains and rivers, and feel _free._

However what neither of us had noticed was Frodo. He'd come in as we were talking, and when Gandalf mentioned going to Rivendell, he rushed in through the door, grass in his hair and a book under his arm, demanding to know where I was going and why. The dear boy, he even offered to come with me. But he doesn't really want to leave; I can see that. The gentle hills, the flowers and the orchards: they are his world. I wouldn't ask him to leave all that behind just because I fancy some company. He would miss it it too much; and perhaps eventually it would break him, unless he learned to shutter his heart. Although if I know Frodo, I know he will be able to withstand much – he's stronger than his rather dainty appearance suggests.

Satisfied that I was not going anywhere soon, he left us after grabbing some bread and cheese. Off to continue reading, I suspect. He's always got his nose in a book; I taught him well.

I write this now in bed after sitting outside with Gandalf a while, sharing a barrel of Old Toby pipeweed. There really is none finer in all of Middle-Earth.

* * *

**Sunday 11th:** Gandalf has had to leave, much to the disappointment of the entire village. A flying visit, without so much as a sparkler, let alone a firework! That is the rather indignant view of most of the locals. I had rather hoped he might be able to stay until the party, but he must return to his Council.

I took the opportunity to take Frodo blackberry picking, like I'd said I would. We gathered up the baskets and set off, when we met Sam on the road. I invited him along, of course, and while at first he was reluctant – wary of the Gaffer's reaction, I suppose – but after I told him not to worry about that he swiftly joined us, and very soon was updating us on all the local gossip. He is such a sweet boy. Sometimes I fear that his gentle nature is sometimes a disappointment to Hamfast Gamgee, who I feel sometimes despairs. But one thing I know about Hamfast is that family comes first, so I've no doubt that he does love his children absolutely without question. But still remains the feeling that Sam's nature is somewhat crushed at home, and he never really opens up.

The blackberries were abundant and ripe, absolutely perfect. Sam says he shall make us plum pudding tomorrow, using the blackberries too. I shall invite him and Hamfast for dinner too, so they can enjoy it. Of course we enjoyed many of the blackberries there, and we all managed to get juice around our mouths! Frodo looked particularly funny as he got some on his nose too. I've no idea how!

It has been a lovely day. I haven't really left the smial for pleasure in a while, and it felt good to be out and enjoying the sun and pleasant company. I feel tired, but in a good way. I shall sleep well tonight.

* * *

**Monday 19th:** The plans for the party are complete. To celebrate Frodo and my birthdays, I have arranged it with Sam to do the cooking – he is a particularly fine cook, as well as gardener – and there shall be only a few of us. Perhaps a couple of Frodo's friends and cousins, and mine. I know he wanted to invite Meriadoc from Brandy Hall, and from what I hear he has got himself a shadow in the form of Peregrin Took. I know Frodo has met him and they all get along like a smial on fire, so I suppose it will be fine. I shall send out the invites today.

Nothing of any import has happened today. I got up and had breakfast, and when Frodo returned we had second breakfast. I did not have elevenses as I had to visit a tenant about the coming harvest, but Frodo and I shared a lovely big luncheon. We shall be having tea soon. But I shall end here, as there is nothing much else to write.

* * *

**Mersday 22nd:** The party was a success, and the guests are now sleeping off the indulgent food and possibly too much wine they consumed this evening. I feel comfortably stretched – around the waistband! Hamfast and Sam came, and Merry and Pippin. It was a very enjoyable little gathering – I don't think those two boys ever stopped talking – and Frodo seemed happy as well.

However I noticed that Frodo didn't eat anywhere near as much as the rest of us. It can't have been because he didn't like it, as Sam cooked bacon and some early mushrooms, which are his favourite. But he sat there, nibbling, and playing with his fork. Of course he was laughing and joining in the conversation, but he did appear distracted.

He's been doing that a lot recently, I've noticed; fiddling with his fork and staring off into the distance. I worry about him, but every time I ask him what's wrong he laughs and starts talking about something else. Ever since he came to live here I've always told him he can tell me anything, but I won't pry; I hope he trusts me enough to tell me, eventually.

Until then, I shall have to wait and just remind him I am here for him. But now my hand is unsteady – too much wine! – and I am tired.

* * *

**Mersday 29th:** The days are becoming slightly less sunny and the wind has a chill to it that means autumn is truly come. The villagers are harvesting many of the crops now, and it looks to have been a good one. Next month we will celebrate it properly.

Frodo has still not opened up, but I am sure he will. He has never really been very good at keeping secrets – his own in particular. In fact Frodo is possibly the best person to go to if you have a secret, as he would never share it. But he can never keep his own secrets private for long.

Today I took him out with me to visit the tenants. He seemed glad to come with me. I wonder if perhaps he has been spending too much time alone, with only written word for company. Not that books are bad companions, but you can't really have a conversation with one. Perhaps that is why he is so clammed up about the problem, whatever it is. But either way we spent a pleasant afternoon walking and talking. He has grown up so much… He will make a fine Gentlehobbit of the Hill one day, I am sure.

As we walked, I noticed all the young ladies trying to catch his attention. I never realised it before, but our young Frodo seems to be quite popular! He smiled politely at each of them but that is all; if he favoured any one of them with anything more, I did not see it. I teased him about it when we got home and he blushed, but did not say anything more on the matter. I assume he's got some lass he's taken a fancy to, but is too embarrassed to admit it. I don't think he has anything to worry about - judging by the lasses' reactions today, I reckon he could have any girl he wanted. As we returned, Sam and Hamfast were in the garden. I went to talk to them about the arrangements for the colder weather, and Frodo hurried off fairly quickly.

I'm satisfied with what Sam and Hamfast plan to do – of course, I trust their judgment more than anyone else's - Hamfast's potatoes in particular have a reputation second to none in all four Farthings of the Shire for quality.

I'm having a last cup of tea before I retire. Frodo hasn't returned yet since he left this afternoon, but I'm not worried. He'll be back when he's ready, and there is no place safer than the Shire. There's a cup of tea for him too, but it's gone cold. That'll teach him for staying out late! It has tuned rather chilly – it's no longer summer, more's the pity, so I shan't tarry much longer.

As I write, Frodo has returned, a book under one arm as usual. It's one he's already read; I shall have to get some new ones in, I reckon. He laughed when I told him of the cold tea and told me not to worry, he's quite capable of heating it. I smiled and left him pottering around in the kitchen.


	2. Winterfilth

_**Winterfilth** _(October)

**Highday 1st: **We celebrated the Harvest today, in the Party Field. There was music and dancing, and everyone was feeling particularly festive at this particularly bountiful harvest. There were many pumpkins of huge dimensions, aubergines, cabbages, artichokes… and the fruit! Frodo and I will have fun turning the many glorious fruits into sticky, tasty jams and jellies. Elderberry, raspberry, apple…

All the young hobbits turned up in their colourful finest, and I don't remember ever having been as energetic as them, although I must have been, once upon a time. They danced and danced, waving colourful red, amber and golden ribbons in the air. Many of the lasses sported them in their hair, and the lads all had a ribbon tucked into a button-hole.

Frodo was happy to sit by me, and when I encouraged him to dance he blushed nearly as red as his ribbon and said he'd rather not. It was rather funny; and although I wanted him to have fun, I was very glad of his company when Lobelia and Otho turned up next to me and started harping on about every little niggling problem – such as the band, the indecency of the dresses (a particularly sore point with Lobelia in particular) and so on. They even accused me of avoiding them – how did they guess? I nodded along and looked grieved; eventually they grew bored of my easy acquiescence and moved on to harass the Mayor. I cannot in truth remember how this rift between our two families came about; if I could fix it I would, but I fear it will not happen in my lifetime.

I saw Sam dancing with one of his sisters, and a young lass who was dancing nearby was also flashing quick glances at him, every time the dance allowed her to look in his direction. I leant in to Frodo and pointed her out, and asked who she was.

'Rosie Cotton, uncle,' he said. 'I'm surprised you of all people didn't know that! They live quite close to the Gamgees.'

That explained it, then. 'She's got a thing for our Sam, hasn't she?'

Frodo's ears were pink as he confirmed it. 'I wonder if he'll dance with her.'

As it turned out, Sam didn't dance with Rosie Cotton. He left the dancing very pink in the face and came and joined Frodo and myself. Frodo got up to get us drinks. I smiled at Sam and told him about Rosie. He blushed even pinker and mumbled something, which I didn't hear. I laughed, and Frodo returned with the drinks.

It began to get dark and lamps were lit, and the Party Tree was glittering with little candles. After a while I began to feel tired and it was getting late, so I turned to Frodo and said I'd like to go home. Sam got up with us and went to find his sisters.

We got back to Bag End and said goodnight. I can hear Frodo getting ready for bed. I hope he enjoyed himself. I can still see people dancing out in the Field and the music is drifting in through my window, which I left slightly open. It is chilly, but maybe I shall leave it open tonight, to feel the wind. Maybe if I do, I won't wake up feeling so enclosed.

* * *

**Sterday 16****th****:** I was sitting outside in the garden this afternoon when a parcel arrived for me. It was the Elvish books I ordered last week. I thought Frodo might like some new reading material, so I had placed an order with the bookshop in the village.

I accepted the package and took it back to my seat. I opened it and looked at the books. As I studied them, Sam appeared and saw me with them. He always has been fascinated with elves, and I taught him to read and Elvish a few years ago, when I taught Frodo. It has always rather surprised me, the admiration and fascination Sam has with elves, for one whose heart is most definitely set in the Shire.

I looked up at him as he approached and showed him the books. He seemed quite taken with them, and I offered him free reign of my library. I've read all those books anyway, so he's quite welcome to them. And it's not like I'll have much need of them, once I've left.

I continued to study them. They were tales of adventure, of heroes and romance… but then I realised. There were no maidens. There was romance… between the male heroes. Now, I am a very liberal hobbit, but there are others who are not so. I would not stop Frodo reading these, but perhaps I should not give them pride of place…

I shrugged and went inside to put them away. When I went back out the sun had gone in, but seeing as it was lunch time I called Sam and Hamfast in to have some food. Frodo was inside and he came too. We spent a very pleasant lunch together, and Frodo was still fidgety. He still hasn't spoken to me about what is troubling him, but these things can't be forced. I feel he will open up soon.

I wish Gandalf was here. Or Balin or one of the other dwarves. I need to talk to someone about things other than crops and harvest and food; something other than the mundane, trivial matters here in the Shire. But there is no one here who I can talk to. And so I shall continue to live through my books, doing as the heroes do, feeling what they feel.

* * *

**Sunday 24th****: **Today I took Frodo with me to visit one of the tenants. He is ill and his family are dependent on us for help until he is better. It was bitterly chill, and I suspect that today is the last we shall see of the sunshine. Frodo was very quiet, and didn't say much as we walked through the village. I let him be, and we arrived at the house with the supplies of food and medicine. The wife of the house let us in and wept with gratitude when she saw what we had brought. It made me feel better, to be useful; I hope Frodo understood then how important it is that he takes his role of Gentlehobbit of the Hill very seriously indeed. It is a privilege, but there are responsibilities to others that are not lightly brushed aside.

But Frodo spoke as we left.

'Uncle Bilbo,' he said quietly. 'I want you to be proud of me. But I don't know I can ever live up to your standards.'

'Frodo, my lad,' I said, stopping and turning to look at him. 'I took you in, partly because I was lonely, it's true; but I could have chosen any one of the young hobbits living at Brandy Hall. I chose you, Frodo, because you have potential, and I saw in you some of myself, when I was younger. And I have never regretted that decision.' I stopped. 'Hobbiton needs a Baggins, but not always a Bilbo. And judging from the way you are received in the village, I think a Frodo will do very nicely indeed.'

He smiled, and we continued on our way.

'Is that what's been bothering you all this time?' I asked him.

'Not… as such, although in part, yes. It's… it's just that there is someone I like. And they don't like me back. At least – at least not like I'd like them to.'

I hid a smile. If it was love, then there was nothing to worry about.

'I'm sure they will, Frodo lad,' I advised him. 'Just give them time, and show them subtly how you feel. Then they'll come round.'

He looked at me then, and I saw his cheeks were rather pink and he looked slightly embarrassed.

'Really, Bilbo?' he asked hopefully.

'Oh yes. When I was a young hobbit…' Frodo laughed, and indulged me. I felt better when I got home than I had done in a rather long while.

* * *

**Hensday 27****th****:** It was cold today, and the sun was hiding behind the clouds, which were themselves a dark and foreboding grey. After breakfast I stepped out to have a walk in the garden, and bumped into Sam. He pointed at the dull sky above our heads.

'Looks like it'll rain today, Mr Bilbo, sir; and I'll bet the plants are ready for it an' all!' he said cheerily. Sam _always _seems to be happy.

'Indeed, Samwise! Is there anything you need?'

'No thank ye, sir. Me gaffer and I have got everything as we might need.'

I looked at him then. The gaffer would not always be around; would Sam continue to work here even then? I asked him, and he looked as shocked as if I'd sprouted another head.

'O' course, sir! I got no plans to leave, unless you or Mr Frodo decide you don't want me any more…' I hastily assured him that that was not the case, and that I didn't think it ever would be. Bag End is only what it is because of all the work Sam and Hamfast have put in to it.

Satisfied that Sam was happy and that I'd let him know his future at Bag End was safe, I retreated indoors as the wind got choppy. I found Frodo in the study with a pot of tea, and decided to join him. As I sat down, though, the weak feeling came over me; I felt dizzy, and like I was fading. I clutched the sofa arm, and quickly felt in my pocket, where the Ring sat heavy, like a lead weight. I had felt it grow heavier over the past few days, as the sun started to hide her face, and as I hadn't had an 'episode' for a while I suppose I was expecting it. But that didn't make it any less frightening. I felt like I was disappearing, like I was about to dissolve into a million little pieces before Frodo's astonished blue eyes.

He touched my shoulder and I felt the panic and fear dissipate; once more I was just a tired old man. I spent the rest of the day sitting quietly in the parlour watching the rain as Frodo brought me cups of tea.

Later this evening, as I prepared for bed, I looked once more at the Ring, and never before have I felt such desire and yet such loathing for something. The nearest I can think is when I beheld Gollum, that snivelling, pitiful wretch, hiding in his cave in the Misty Mountains. But there was no force emanating from him, pulling me in and binding me to him; not like with the Ring. Rather I felt rather repelled by his emaciated and wrinkled form; but the Ring is so beautiful, so perfect I cannot help myself but stare at it, the golden band glimmering softly at me as it catches the light. Even now, I ache to hold it close… but this is foolish. I must stop.

I am tired, and I must rest this weary body of mine.


	3. Blotmath

_**Blotmath **_(November)

**Mersday 5****th****: **All warmth is gone and now winter is truly setting in. It has been cold, so cold, recently; colder than it usually is in early Blotmath. When I go outside of a morning the ground is crunchy underfoot with dew that has been frozen into crystals; little gems adorning each emerald blade of grass. The flowers have a brittle quality about them now, as if they are too are being turned to ice by these bitter, bitter conditions.

Early winter has always been my least favourite time of year. It's when you can feel the natural world retreating, hiding, deserting us. Mid-winter, it snows, just enough to build snow-hobbits with but never too much to hinder daily life, and then you can go inside and warm up by the fire. But early winter, there is no snow; only bitter biting wind and air so cold you can feel your muscles clenching and seizing up.

My old bones feel the cold more keenly. I have a fire going in my room constantly, bigger than those in the rest of the smial. When Frodo came in just now, he took a step back at the intense heat. But I need it, to stop the aches. So many aches, now. And not just in my body - my heart hurts, too.

I have slept for much of today. What with the stiffness in my joints I did not feel up to much today, so Frodo brought me tea and then I slept. When he came in earlier, he told me about his day. He spent it helping Sam and Hamfast prepare the flower beds, apparently, and then he collected up all the late season apples. Thankfully they have not been ruined by the frost; they may not be as sweet, but still perfectly edible. We shall have to begin preserving them soon.

I have my pipe and some tea, and a little before-bed snack. Frodo does look after me. But who looks after him? I feel so useless, wrapped up in bed like this. I hate being old. I remember, nearly sixty years ago now, running off through the village after the dwarves, without even a handkerchief! How I'd love to do that again, just to move freely and unburdened once more.

* * *

**Monday 9****th****:** I felt much better today. I asked Frodo to put a little brandy into my tea this morning, and by the Valar, it worked like a dream! I felt it spreading warmth through my veins, and I had energy enough to get up and dressed.

Frodo and I passed the day making jam, preserving the fruits harvested through the year. The crimson strawberries, the soft blushing raspberries; deep purple smooth elderberries and quinces like sunshine. I love the jewel-like jellies they make – deep ruby red, opal black and soft rose quartz. And the taste is even better than the sight. Sweet, yet slightly sharp, and then when you get a chunk of fruit – the divine little explosion of flavour.

Of course we then ate some, on some fresh baked bread, soft and fluffy and melting on the tongue. Give me fresh bread and jam over any of the finest meals for Kings in Middle-Earth!

Unfortunately my good mood was lessened somewhat by an impatient rapping on the door. Frodo got up to answer it and who should barge in but Lobelia and Otho. They stood on the threshold and Lobelia screwed up her face at the smell, thick and cloying and sweet.

I made my way down to them and politely welcomed them in, and then they proceeded to show themselves to the parlour. As they passed Lobelia called over her shoulder that 'she'd like a tea, Frodo, and quickly too; her poor bones were nearly frozen'. Frodo looked at me and laughed softly, then made his way to the kitchen to make tea for everyone. I hurriedly followed them into the parlour – partly because I was worried what Lobelia might decide to slip into her umbrella or down her bodice.

I entered as she'd picked up a rather nice silver napkin-ring from the sideboard, and she hastily put it back as she saw me.

'So, my dear Sackville-Bagginses, to what do I owe this pleasure?' I asked, concealing my sarcasm beneath a smile. Lobelia's mouth puckered as she saw right through my polite demeanour.

'Don't think I don't know exactly what you're thinking, Bilbo Baggins! You want us out! Well, I can tell you that until you've answered my questions, we're not going anywhere.'

'What questions do you have, dear Lobelia? I cannot answer them if I do not know them.'

I saw her get angrier and she nearly lost her temper, but at that moment Frodo entered with the tea tray.

She huffed back to silence. An awkward silence reigned as tea was poured, broken only by the tinkling of spoons and clanking of tea cups against saucers.

She launched back into a tirade of complaints once everyone had their tea. First the tenants' gardens were becoming too overgrown, I really had to do something about them; a couple of hobbit-lads had stolen a few scones from her kitchen the other day and it was absolutely my responsibility to deal with them; she was sure the baker was adulterating the bread… and so on and so on until my smile began to hurt and it became more of a grimace. In the end I pacified her by agreeing to everything but committing to nothing; usually Lobelia forgot about all the numerous demands as soon as she left the premises – her reasons for coming to Bag End were more about what she could pilfer than being concerned about my duties.

Once they were gone Frodo slumped against the door and laughed, and I joined in. Those two are absolutely insufferable.

We had some more jam and bread and offered some to the Gamgees for their lunch, and gave them a jar to take home. Strawberry – Sam's particularly favourite flavour – I asked him once why, and he said it was because he loved collecting the wild strawberries in early summer with his brothers and sisters, and the taste of strawberry jam is all he needs to remember the sun and the smell of earth and sweet fruit.

* * *

**Sunday 15****th****: **Sam has come down with a fever. Hamfast came to work alone today, and when we asked where Sam was he said he'd been slightly unwell the day before but during the night had worsened. He didn't think it was serious, but Daisy and May were tending him.

Frodo was particularly concerned, and he gathered together a basket of herbs and various other remedies that might help Sam. of course I was pretty sure Sam's sisters had all of these things already, but it was admirable to see Frodo so desperate to help Sam. As he left, I saw him add a bundle of purple pansies to the basket – after furtively looking around to make sure the gaffer didn't see him. The sight made me laugh, and I made sure to tell the gaffer so he wasn't left bewildered when he saw that some of his pansies had vanished.

Frodo spent all day at Number 3, and only returned very late in the evening when it had been dark for some time.

I was waiting up for him, keeping some tea and leftovers from dinner warm. He walked in looking tired and upset. Worried, I enquired after Sam.

'He's doing fine; it's not a serious fever and his body seems to be fighting it off pretty well.'

'Then why do you look so glum, my lad?'

'Oh Bilbo, its nothing, it's just… I wanted to be helpful, I wanted to help Sam. I took basil and honey to make into a tea and garlic to soak… but his sisters had everything already, and they didn't think I should be there. They wanted me to leave them to it… but I had to make sure Sam was alright, I couldn't walk out on him! Eventually they let me help them… they liked the flowers though.'

Dear Frodo. He has such a kind heart. The thought quite warmed mine – him sitting there being a nuisance as he watched Sam, and then being bossed around by Daisy and May Gamgee!

'He's such a dear friend, Bilbo. I couldn't just leave him, not until I was absolutely certain… He woke up before I left. The first thing he said was to apologise for not being at work! Then his sisters shooed me out and told me to come home and get some sleep.'

'Frodo, I understand. It's admirable, your care and devotion to Sam. In truth, Bag End wouldn't be Bag End without him.'

Frodo's ears pinkened as I said this, and he tucked in quickly to his dinner. He ate then as if he had fasted all day… dedication indeed. He finished eating and we both headed to our respective rooms. I hope Sam gets better soon; not only for his sake, but also as I doubt Frodo will get much rest until he is.

* * *

**Monday 23****rd****:** Sam did indeed get better very quickly. Even now he's back at work, and I must say it's good to have him back pottering about out in the garden; he is as much a part of Bag End as the garden is. While he was still abed I sent Frodo off to Number 3 with another jar of strawberry jam, and I've a feeling it speeded up the recovery no end!

He's back to his usual cheerful self, humming and whistling to himself, wrapped up in his big thick coat. Sam just has a way of making everything happy, from plants to animals to people. I wish I knew his secret; the reason he is just so happy, in himself, in his position…

Frodo has been acting rather embarrassed around Sam now. Perhaps he thinks it was silly, his staying with Sam and watching over him, but I don't think it was and neither does Sam. I overheard a conversation between them, when Sam came back to work.

Frodo had been out in the garden with his book and Sam had walked up to him, fiddling with his cap.

'Mr Frodo sir,' he'd begun, when Frodo looked up and quickly jumped out of his seat.

'Sam… um, er…' he looked down, and scuffed at the grass with his foot.

They both stood there, each fidgeting and not looking at each other, when Sam spoke up and said all in a rush: 'Mr Frodo, sir, I wanted to thank you for visiting me and looking after me while I was ill. It's much appreciated, sir, and the jam too…'

Frodo cut him off. 'Sam, it was nothing. I'm glad you're better now. And I know you would have done the same for me, if I was unwell.'

Sam nodded and his blonde curls bobbed around his head. 'Of course, sir, that's right and no mistake.'

They stood there a moment longer, when Frodo said suddenly, 'Sam, I am your friend, aren't I? I consider you a friend, you know.'

Sam blushed and mumbled something but at Frodo's continued insistent gaze, he said firmly, 'yes, Mr Frodo, you're a friend. And there's none better than you.'

Then he hastily turned and retreated back to the flower beds. Frodo stood there a while longer, and then turned and looked to make his way into the orchard. He stayed there until tea-time, when he came in all flushed pink from the wind and his hands rough and chapped from the cold. He didn't mention the conversation with Sam, so I didn't bring it up. We spent the rest of the evening in the study by the fire, and he sat by the window staring out, his face reflected back at him in the dark window pane.

Soon he said good-night and went to bed, and I followed suit. He has been so quiet lately; I hope he isn't coming down with anything.

* * *

**Sterday 28****th****: **Blotmath is nearly over, and the skies lie heavy with the threat of snow. It never snows this early in the year; usually not until Yule or Afteryule. Today I woke up tired again, and could not focus on anything. Frodo was concerned again, but I told him not to worry and sent him off to do his own thing. He stayed with me in the smial though, making me cups of tea and cooking me soup for lunch. It was much better than anything I could have created – even after living alone for so many years, my cooking skills are little more than non-existent!

I tottered from kitchen to parlour to study, and could not concentrate. I tried to settle the accounts, the numbers floated in front of me; I tried to read, the words made no sense; the only thing that seemed to calm me was the Ring. I took it from my pocket when Frodo was busy in the kitchen and held it, felt its soft smooth weight in my palm, and the desire came upon me once more to put it on. As I heard Frodo bringing me a cup of tea, I slipped it onto my finger. His face when he walked in was priceless; even more so when I slipped it off and suddenly appeared once more to view. Frodo laughed, and it was good to hear. It has been a while.

We sat then together and just talked; it began raining outside as we did and Sam and Hamfast joined us for a little time, until it stopped and they went out once more to finish the garden. We passed the rest of the afternoon in peaceful conversation and pleasant silence, as the mood took us. Frodo is good, to put up with his old uncle's wild whims like he does. I am so happy to have him with me. It makes the thought of leaving that much more painful, however.

Tomorrow we shall visit the tenants again and ensure they are ready for the snowy weather I feel will be here soon; for now, I shall sleep until Frodo has sorted out some sort of dinner.


	4. Foreyule

_**Foreyule **_(December) and _**1****st**_**_ Yule_ **

**Trewsday 1****st****: **I was right. The snow started falling yesterday evening, and this morning Hobbiton woke to a gentle dusting which crackles and crunches underfoot. It hasn't stopped since, and the clouds are dark and low, with the promise of much more to come.

Sam and Hamfast won't be coming to wrok in the garden for a while, until all the snow is gone, as they have protected the garden as much as they can from the worst of it. There's no point in them working out in the cold when they could be warm at home.

To celebrate the first day of Foreyule and the snow, Frodo and I made cups of hot chocolate and baked a platter of fruit scones, which we ate still warm and generously topped with whipped cream and jam. We sat in the kitchen, our stomachs full and our bodies pleasantly warm from the heat of the fire; and I felt content. In that moment I could forget tenants and relatives and rings; I could just sit and revel in the simple pleasures of good food and the company of one I love.

The snow didn't let up all day and this evening it is at least up to my knees. If it continues like this we shall soon be snowed in! At least that would keep Lobelia away. And with that pleasant thought, I shall retire for today.

* * *

**Sterday 5****th****: **The snow did not stop that night, but it slowed so that it was no longer a fast-flowing veil of flakes, but more like a constant drip of slow moving ones carried on the wind, with the occasional flurry.

Today it did finally stop, and I had the most fun I have had in a while. Sam came over early this morning, and I thought it was something to do with the garden, until he grinned mischievously at Frodo.

'There are some hobbit children out in the Party Field, sir, and they was wondering if perhaps you'd like to join us and make snow-hobbits. Remember when you used to help me make the biggest of them all, sir? They was thinking we might have a competition, them against us, and the winners get to throw snowballs at the losers…'

Frodo's face lit up at the memory, and he immediately agreed and went to get his coat. I was feeling well this morning so I told them I would accompany them, and Sam helped me with my coat while Frodo fetched our scarves and my walking stick.

The air was fresh and our breath steamed up as we made our way through the snow, above my knees, it was. I don't know how the children managed to navigate it! We made our slow and rather slippery way down to the Party Field, where a cluster of about ten little hobbit-lads and lasses were waiting for us. When they saw our little party they all started cheering. Sam is particularly popular with the younger generation.

While they all gathered around Frodo and Sam, I found one of the benches that line the edge of the field and cleared the thick layer of snow. I got out my pipe and lit it. I was grateful for my many scarves as the wind was picking up once they finally were ready to begin.

'Uncle Bilbo!' Frodo called to me. 'You're the judge! You have to decide whose snowman is the biggest and best! Tell us when to begin!'

'Right you are! Ready, kids? Go!' I shouted back. Immediately all ten children began running around collecting piles of snow, except two who began patting the snow in their designated spot into a ball to be the base.

Frodo and Sam, having a _much_ smaller team, did not have quite the same speed, but were much more practiced, so already had a very large snowball, waist-height, to be their first segment of body while the children were still collecting snow.

My heart was warmed by the sight; the children all working together to beat Sam and Frodo. One particularly brave little hobbit-lad sneaked up to Frodo and Sam's snowball while they were collecting more snow and bored a hole into it; the result being that when Sam placed their next snowball on top the bottom one couldn't take the weight and completely collapsed!

The children all lapsed into squeals of delight at this sudden turn of events, and Sam proceeded to mock-chase the culprit all around the field and ruffle his hair when he caught him. Quickly Sam and Frodo returned to their snow-hobbit and fixed it, and it was finished at about the same time as the children finished theirs.

The children all began shouting as they placed a carrot one of them had brought with them as a finishing touch to their creation. I got up a little stiffly and went to inspect them. The children's snow-hobbit was nearly as tall as me, and they had even included the large feet! It made me smile. The children were all gathering around me with cries of, '_ours_ is the best, Mr Bilbo, isn't it,' and 'ours is better than theirs!' I forget how competitive children can be sometimes!

I pretended to deliberate, and made some sort of humming noises in my throat as I pretended to think about it. Then I moved onto Sam and Frodo's. Theirs was more of a lopsided structure, without feet or even a nose! I smiled; it was still impressive they had anything, after the lad's sabotage. Their faces were flushed with exercise and the wind, but they were smiling.

I turned back to the children, who were now silent and staring at me eagerly, and said with great flourish, 'having studied the two exhibits very carefully, I have decided that the Best Snow-Hobbit is…' I paused and I heard them all hold their breath. One was bouncing on her heels in excitement. 'This one!' I declared, waving at the children's.

They all began dancing and jumping and shouting at the tops of their voices. One particularly delighted hobbit girl wrapped her arms around my leg and hugged it. Sam and Frodo were laughing behind me, and preparing themselves to be bombarded with snow balls. 'Don't be too harsh on them,' I warned, 'especially after the little bit of cheating that went on!' I smiled and pointed to the young rascal.

They immediately began pelting Frodo and Sam with snowballs, but they weren't big and Frodo and Sam made a big show of running around trying to avoid them, so they missed most of them anyway. The delighted squeals of the children when they hit their target and Sam and Frodo's playful groans as they pretended to be hurt filled the air. When Frodo tripped as one hit his leg, the same lad who had sabotaged their snow-hobbit led the charge and suddenly Sam and Frodo found themselves being bombarded with children rather than snowballs. They all ended up on the floor, covered in snow, until they decided they were tired. I laughed and called to them. They all came scurrying up to me and I ruffled each of their heads in turn. Sam and Frodo managed to get up and came to join us.

As we made our way back to the village, we dropped off all the children at their respective homes, pink-cheeked and tired but ecstatic about their victory.

Sam and Frodo and I returned to Bag End, where we all had hot chocolate and sat by the fire to warm up.

'Thank you, Sam, for an incredibly enjoyable day,' I said to him. He smiled back.

'Twas nothing, sir. Rather, thank the two of ye for helping me out – they wanted to compete against just me, but I figured I'd have more of a chance if I had Mr Frodo's help!'

'Not that it did you much good, Sam! We still didn't win!' Frodo laughed, and gave a mock sigh.

'True enough, Mr Frodo, but it was still more fun than losing by meself!'

Sam spent the rest of the day with us and we passed many hours in the kitchen with multiple cups of tea and hot chocolate – and scones with strawberry jam, of course! As it began to get dark, Sam decided it was time to leave. Frodo walked to Number 3 with him, and returned a few minutes later.

'Sam is a treasure, isn't he Frodo?' I commented as I got up to go to my room

'He is indeed, Uncle,' Frodo agreed with a smile as he lent me his arm. 'I haven't had so much fun in a long time.'

'Neither have I. Perhaps we both need to get out more.'

Frodo's eyes twinkled as he laughed in agreement.

I am tired now, but in a good way. Days like this are the happiest, when I can forget. And forgetting is good, sometimes.

* * *

**Trewsday 15****th****: **I have been preparing for Yule now. We have been a little late in beginning, and it is not too long now until 1st Yule! I've ordered a goose from the butcher and it should be big enough… it would not ordinarily matter, but as it is my last Yule with Frodo, I want it to be extra special for him; and we are inviting the Gamgees, so we shall need enough for all of us! I do not know quite when I shall leave the Shire but I know I shall not see another Yule here.

I must actually check with Hamfast that they will be able to come. I'm pretty sure he will agree as he knows my table is generous and we get along very well; but it wouldn't do to have an empty smial and a huge goose to feed only two hobbits, would it?

Frodo and I have been sorting out mathoms for everyone. We've got ribbons and pretty handkerchiefs for the Gamgee girls, and a set of gardening gloves for the gaffer. I've got Sam some particularly fancy twine, from Bree – his uncle's a rope-maker and he has always had a fondness for good rope… Frodo doesn't know what he wants to get Sam but he'd better decide soon otherwise he'll run out of time.

This morning I collected in from the garden the things to put in the festive wreath – holly and the berries, of course, but also ivy and pine cones. It will look lovely on our door. Frodo and I shall assemble it later tonight.

* * *

**Highday 25****th****: **The wreath upon the door looks very festive, and even I am experiencing the excitement that all hobbit-children have at Yule! Everyone is going around with huge smiles on their faces. Last week Mrs Bracegirdle knocked at the door and brought us a Yule fruit cake, one that's been maturing since Forelithe and has a healthy measure of brandy, so she says. Everyone is so generous at Yule…

Frodo and I began to decorate it then, with holly leaves and berries, when Sam knocked. He was bringing us some Yule Gingerbread that Marigold had made especially. My heart swelled with affection for the Gamgees. They are not wealthy, and that they are still so generous… I am gladdened by little acts such as this.

Knowing Sam is a brilliant cook I made him stay and help us with our cake. He passed his practiced eye over it and transformed it! He's ever so clever and has an eye for detail; it looks wondrous now. The glowing red berries crimson against the snowy marzipan, the deep green of the leaves dark. We also spent the afternoon sticking cloves into bright round satsumas. The smell as the spice digs deep into the sharp, sweet flesh: it sums up Yule, for me. I haven't felt this excited about Yule in a very long time. Even Frodo has commented on it!

In my festive cheer I even sent the Sackville-Bagginses a nice big bunch of Yule Poinsettias. That will keep Lobelia quiet for a while…

* * *

**1****st**** Yule: **Ah. Yule. It has been truly wonderful today. Frodo and I were up early preparing the goose and the rest of the food for tea today. The Gamgees arrived some hour before noon, and we gave mathoms out.

The Gamgee girls were delighted with theirs, and tied the ribbons in their hair right there and then! Sam thanked us profusely, declaring himself 'dead chuffed' to have received such a gift. Hamfast was quite taken with his gloves, and thanked us in a rather gruff voice. When they presented me with their gift I too felt a bit teary. It was a beautiful wall hanging which the Gamgee girls had sewn, of Bag End. The garden was the best – colourful and bright, with every tiny detail included. A trowel left out by Sam, Hamfast's old gloves. Frodo was standing by me and he squeezed my shoulder. I looked at Marigold, Daisy and May and thanked them, and I'm sure they could see the tears in my eyes. They all came and gave me a hug.

Suddenly Sam was running out into the kitchen – the goose was nearly burning! Trust me to forget things like that! I always have had a bad memory. Thankfully Sam managed to rescue it and soon enough we were sitting down to enjoy our 1st Yule meal together.

We got to the Yule pudding and we were tucking in when Marigold suddenly yelped, and pulled something out of her mouth – a little silver charm! It was the bell – signifying a marriage soon to happen… she blushed as everyone looked, but didn't give anything away. Next thing we knew Frodo was nearly choking and he coughed up a silver boot – he shall be travelling in later life, it seems! Sam got the button for luck.

After tea we sat and told stories – Sam insisted I tell him all about elves – and smoked pipes, enjoying each other's company. Marigold, Daisy and May sang a few songs and we all joined in after a few glasses of good wine.

Once it started to get dark the Gamgees left, and Frodo and I are now sitting by the fire, content and full; I am writing and Frodo is reading. My eyes are beginning to droop and I think I shall sleep like a log tonight.

It has been a good day. Definitely a Yule worthy enough to be my last in the Shire. I shall treasure today for always.

* * *

_**A/N: Well, we're a quarter of the way through Bilbo's last year in the Shire. **_

_**What do you think so far? Please Review if you enjoy (and even if you don't - I want to improve!)**_

_**:)**_


	5. Afteryule

_**2**__**nd**__** Yule **_and _**Afteryule **_(January)

**1401 S.R.; Highday 2****nd**** Yule: **A new year. A new start. Sometime this year I will begin again, and it won't be in the Shire. It_ will_ be this year; the only question is when.

Frodo and I spent the day together by ourselves. We rose late this morning, and breakfasted when the sun had fully risen. We spent the first part of the morning in the parlour with a roaring fire and chestnuts roasting in the kitchen, the sweet smell filling the air. We read books and talked until lunch, when we had the rest of the goose from yesterday. Pleasantly full, I sat back and looked out of the window. It was not snowing and the sun was shining weakly out of the pale blue sky.

I decided I wanted to go out for a walk. Frodo fetched my coat for me and his as well, and we stepped out into the garden. The snow was crunchy, icy underfoot rather than soft and fluffy. Many a time Frodo stopped me slipping, and I him. The wind was whipping around us, chapping our cheeks pink and hands raw. I looked at Frodo, his dark curls fluttering around his forehead.

'What did you get Sam in the end, Frodo lad?' I asked him. 'I never saw you give him anything.'

Frodo shook his head. 'No. You know what Sam's like, uncle, so I gave it to him when his sisters wouldn't see; before everyone came into the kitchen for luncheon. It was poem; I can show you when we go back inside.'

We continued to walk around the garden for a little longer, until it became too cold and I could no longer feel my face.

Frodo hung our coats up and while I settled myself down back in the parlour, Frodo fetched a copy of the poem he had given to Sam. it was about friendship, and a particularly beautiful one. One of the finest in my collection, and Elvish it was – Sam would have loved it. I smiled up at Frodo, and he grinned back.

As the sun began to set, we had tea and spent the rest of the evening in the parlour again, with cups of hot tea and seedcakes. Soon 2nd Yule shall be over, and Afteryule shall begin.

* * *

**Mersday 6****th**** Afteryule: **The snow has gone, replaced by a slush that is slippery in the day and overnight freezes to thin layers of treacherous ice. Thankfully the plants are well protected by Sam and Hamfast's meticulous planning. They will be starting work in the garden once the snow has entirely thawed.

I wanted to go out again today. I didn't want to stay cooped up inside. I was getting my coat and many scarves on when Frodo saw me and asked where I was going.

'To the woods,' I replied.

Frodo joined me. We stepped out together and made our way to the wood. The slush was all gone in that area, and we could walk fairly steadily, without slipping or sliding. We got into the cover of the trees, where all was quiet and calm. We walked along in silence, enjoying the fresh breeze, even if it was very chill.

Suddenly Frodo touched my arm and pulled me in his direction.

'There's something I want to show you, Uncle Bilbo,' he said.

We walked that way for a while and then I saw what it was. It was what appeared to be a hut made out of woven twigs to form a dome shape.

'What is it, lad?'

'I don't know, Uncle. I found it one day when I was walking here. I don't know who built it, or why… but the birds and the other wildlife don't seem to really pay you any mind when you're in there, so you can watch them.'

'So is this where you've been hiding, all those times you came home late?' I laughed.

'Yes.' He smiled. 'It's so peaceful and quiet, and in all the time I've spent here, no one else has ever passed by.'

He walked over to the shelter and ducked inside. I followed and peered in. He took up nearly all the space as he sat there, hunched over. He grinned at me in that impish way he has.

He got up and we began to walk again, creating theories as to how the shelter came to be there. Perhaps it was a hobbit's secret stash of special pipeweed, long since depleted; maybe there are hunters in the summer… and so our theories became more and more outlandish, until we reached trees that can move and talk and some other impossible nonsense….

Soon we began to feel the chill sharply and turned for home. I felt pleasantly worn out by the time we got home and Frodo is now making us both a cup of hot tea and getting out a cake or two. Soon it will be time for dinner and then for bed. I shall sleep well again tonight.

* * *

**Trewsday 11****th****: **Today Sam came to work alone. I was sitting in the doorway of the kitchen, enjoying the sun without leaving the warmth of the smial. As Sam walked up the path and round to the shed, I called out to him.

'Sam, where is the gaffer today?'

'Oh Mr Bilbo sir, I was going to come and find you to tell you. The gaffer's not going to be able to come today, sir; his joints are stiff and he can't hardly move. So I'm in alone today.'

Poor Hamfast. I know what it is to have joints so stiff and painful you can barely move. After offering my condolences to Sam for his gaffer I turned inside and went to make a basket of things to give to him. Not necessarily to ease the pain – although I know a good honey cake can take the mind off such things!

Frodo walked into the kitchen and saw Sam outside on his own. He enquired of me as to the reason, and when I explained he immediately went to get his coat and joined Sam outside. He's not much of a gardener, is Frodo, but he got down and was helping Sam ensure the flowers were not damaged.

I wonder if this new development is permanent. If Hamfast decides to hand over to Sam… well, I do not have any qualms, should that happen. Sam is just as capable and skilled a gardener as his gaffer. I've no doubt the garden will continue to flourish under Sam's careful watch.

* * *

**Monday 24****th****: **I did not feel very well when I got up this morning. Once again I felt weak, and my limbs were heavy. Frodo came in this morning when he noticed I wasn't up, and brought me some tea. He then went out, and I stayed in bed.

I watched the fire cast shadows on the wall, flickering and jumping. I watched as the sun trickled weakly in through the gap in my curtains, casting a thin beam of light onto the floor. I could see the dust motes floating. It got gradually brighter in the room as the sun rose higher, but I could not get up. I didn't have the strength or the energy. Instead I lay in bed, holding my precious Ring close to me.

I spent most of the day like this, until Frodo returned at lunch time with some tea, and made me get up.

'It's no use wallowing, Uncle Bilbo,' he told me sternly. 'You'll only feel better if you get up and move around.'

I let him pull the covers off and help me up. He was right, of course; sitting around never did achieve anything. And it never will.

I sighed. I looked at Frodo, and he smiled. So young. So carefree…

'Frodo, my lad.' He frowned at my tone of voice.

'Uncle?'

'I can't stay here. I need to see mountains and forests and rivers again; I feel cooped up here, caged.'

His frown deepened.

'When will you go?' he asked.

'I don't know.' Then I remembered. Frodo would come of age this Halimath. The same day I turn eleventy-one.

'I'll be here to celebrate our birthday, though. Don't worry about that!'

He smiled, and his frown lessened.

I changed the subject and asked for my lunch. Frodo smiled further at that, and helped me to the kitchen, where there was a delicious stew waiting. My stomach rumbled, and I remembered I hadn't breakfasted all day! Not even once! No wonder I was ravenous. I ate well then, my earlier weakness all but forgotten.

Sam was still working out in the garden alone; the gaffer's joints haven't improved over the past weeks – if anything they are worsening. He did enjoy the hamper I sent over though!

I spent the afternoon reading, and walking around the smial, occasionally venturing into the garden if the sun was shining brightly. Frodo looks after me so well. What would I do without him?


	6. Solmath

_**Solmath **_(February)

**Mersday 4****th****: **Hamfast was able to come to work today. He and Sam arrived at the usual time together, and made their way to the shed to get their tools. I walked out to greet them, and clasped Hamfast's hand with affection. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

'It's good to have you back, Hamfast!' I said. 'The garden has been too empty with just Sam.'

He looked sad at this, and when I asked what was wrong, he sighed.

'Tha's the trouble, Mr Bilbo. It will be only Sam from now on. Me joints are too painful and me back's done in now, so I came today to let you know that I'm passing my duties on to Sam.'

My face must have fallen, as he looked worried, and hastily carried on.

'I've taught him all there is to know, en't I, Sam? He'll look after your garden proper, Mr Bilbo, there's naught to worry about there…'

I smiled. It wasn't the garden I was worried about. Hamfast has been a good friend these past sixty years, ever since I got back from my adventure and he helped me regain all my possessions, which had been sold off to various neighbours and relatives. If he was retiring, I would be seeing a lot less of him, and that made me sad.

I shook my head. 'No, Hamfast; you've taught Sam well and I have complete trust in him. It's just… It'll be strange, not having you out here.'

Hamfast smiled. 'All the more reason for you to come and visit us at Number 3!' he laughed.

I agreed, and looked at them both fondly. I invited them both in for some tea before they started work, and we enjoyed a large honey cake and some scones. Frodo was nowhere to be found – he wasn't in the smial and when I called him he didn't come. Ah well, I thought – he's probably reading somewhere.

We spent so long with the tea that eventually it was time for elevenses, so Hamfast and Sam joined me for that then went out to start work in the garden. There is not a lot to do, so it didn't delay them too much.

Frodo still hadn't returned by lunch time, so I had luncheon by myself and went into the study, where I busied myself with a book. Sam and Hamfast called through the window when they were finished, and I hurried out to say goodbye.

I clasped Hamfast's hand as I said good-bye.

'I'll be sure to visit you soon,' I said.

'Aye, you do that Mr Bilbo, sir,' he smiled, and squeezed my hand gently in return.

I went back to the study and sat down in the chair by the fire. Frodo still hadn't returned. I wasn't sure where he was, and it began to get dark. I was starting to worry when he came in. His cheeks were glowing and he was very warm; he looked feverish but insisted he was fine. I gave him a bowl of hot soup and sent him to bed. I can hear him tossing and turning in his room even now. I worry about him sometimes…

* * *

**Trewsday 9****th****: **I was right. Frodo went down with a fever. He wasn't up the next morning so I went to check on him. He was sweating and when I woke him his eyes were bright but unfocused. Worried, I called Sam in from the garden.

Sam is an admirable fellow. He knew exactly what to do, and he was there boiling water for the remedies and sponging Frodo down to keep him from getting too hot. After a while Sam said that the best thing to do now was just to wait until the fever died down. Frodo is strong and healthy, and he'll be able to fight it off easily, Sam said. I hoped he was right.

I did worry when he still wasn't better the next morning, but Sam and his sisters assured me that it was normal and we just had to let the fever run its course.

I felt so silly, then. It's not like Frodo's never been ill before. Admittedly he was already a tween when he came to live with me, and he was past all the childhood illnesses, but he was ill in the first few years of living here – overtired and weak from grief. The years he spent at Brandy Hall did nothing to ease the pain of losing his parents; only dulled it, I fear, and it came back all too sharply when he came into an environment where he was properly cared for and loved – that brought back so many memories, all too painful. Many a time did I sit with him, holdng his hands, as he fell back asleep from a nightmare, shaking and shivering; or feed him hot broth when the memories and pain threatened to drown him, just like his parents, and he was too weak to get up.

It was not the illness that had turned me into this fretting, dithering old Gammer, but the timing. It was so close to my leaving, and I couldn't bear it if Frodo left before I did.

Of course all my worrying was unnecessary, as Frodo was better by the evening. I went in to see him after Marigold had made me take a nap.

He smiled at me, and I gently went and hugged him. It was too much, and I felt tears slide down my cheeks.

'Uncle, surely you're not crying? I'm fine now,' he said softly, his voice weak and slightly hoarse. I looked at him. He had not been ill for very long but already he'd lost weight – the wives in the village would have something to say about it, as they already think he's a bit scrawny, for a hobbit – and he had dark circles under his eyes.

'It's nothing, my dear, dear Frodo. I'm just getting old.'

He clasped my hand then, and we sat there in silence for a while. Gradually his breathing slowed and became regular, and his grip on my hand loosened. I watched him as he slept, and I too fell asleep at his side, still holding his hands.

This morning I brought him some tea and he was sitting up. He gratefully accepted the cup and I sat with him again.

He was still weak so he stayed in bed, and I brought him plenty of cups of tea and hot broth, which he could thankfully manage to feed himself. I spent the day with him, and we read stories he had loved when he first came to live with me. Soon he began to feel tired, so I left him to sleep.

I haven't worried about him so much in a long time. It's so unlike him to get ill.

I went to find Sam. I thanked him profusely for looking after Frodo. Without Sam, I would probably have lost my head, and Frodo would be in a much worse position. Sam looked a little embarrassed, and reminded me of earlier when Frodo had looked after him. When Frodo woke a little later, Sam went to speak to him. When he left I saw a little bundle of flowers on Frodo's bedside table.

I smiled. Sam really is a blessing.

* * *

**Highday 19****th****: **Oh joy of joys. Today the Sackville-Bagginses decided to visit for lunch. They tuned up on the doorstep at lunch-time and invited themselves in. Sam had made some stew for lunch and the smell was divine. I'm sure Lobelia had planned it exactly so, for of course then I had to ask them stay.

Frodo was in his room when they arrived, and had stayed in there while I greeted them. I quickly went to find him while they sat themselves down, and told Frodo to pretend he was still ill. Of course they had heard about his fever but hadn't known how serious (or not-serious) it was, so it gave Frodo the opportunity to avoid them. Also if Lobelia thought there was a sick person in the house, perhaps she wouldn't stay for dessert.

I served lunch but instead of using the silver cutlery I would for any other guests, knowing how partial Lobelia is to a bit of silver I deliberately laid out the standard metal sets.

As she sat down, Lobelia picked her fork up and sniffed.

'What's this, Bilbo? What happened to the silver?'

'Ah, my dear Lobelia.' I sighed. 'Unfortunately the money's running out, see; all the gold I got on that wonderful adventure I went on -' (she visibly shuddered at the mention of _adventures_) – 'is gone, and I've had to sell the silver and many other things besides. Alas, now we have only pewter.'

She pursed her lips at that. I proceeded to tell them all about poor suffering Frodo, confined to bed with a contagious illness, and both Lobelia and Otho looked a little startled.

As I'd thought, after the wonderful stew, Lobelia suddenly remembered she was meant to be meeting someone in the village, and she and Otho scuttled out as fast as they could.

I sighed gratefully and went to find Frodo with a bowl of stew I'd saved for him. He laughed at our deception of the insufferable S-B's.

The rest of the day we spent in the study reading. Sam joined us for some afternoon tea and cakes, which Frodo partook of with gusto after his past week and a bit on a diet of soups and broths and tea, and little else!

Just before Sam left, Frodo went to talk to Sam. Sam blushed a lot during the conversation, so I assume it was Frodo thanking him again for looking after him.

I smiled. Those two are such good friends, and it really is lovely to see. I think their friendship will last for many years, if this is anything to go by. I can hear Frodo getting ready for bed now, and I think I shall too. It has been a long day... I feel content however, to be surrounded by people I love (Sackville-Bagginses not included).

Perhaps I shall visit Hamfast tomorrow.


	7. Rethe

_**Rethe**_ (March)

**Highday 3****rd****: **I was sitting in the parlour this morning when Frodo entered. He had a thoughtful look on his face. I asked him what was wrong.

'Nothing's wrong, uncle. I just remembered that I'll be thirty-three this year.' The frown persisted though.

'Aye, Frodo. You'll no longer be a lad. You'll be a fine grown-up hobbit!'

'And you'll be eleventy-one.'

I hummed in agreement.

'Uncle Bilbo, why don't we have a party? You know our birthdays are the same day, and it doesn't have to be anything big-'

'On the contrary, my dear lad,' I cut in. 'You will be thirty-three, and it's not every day a hobbit comes of age. We will certainly have a party, and it will definitely be very big!'

Frodo grinned.

'But Uncle, I know you prefer little gatherings-'

'Frodo lad! I love parties as much as the next hobbit! In any case there'll be so much ale at our party that I doubt I'll even realise there's a party going on!'

Frodo laughed and I chuckled along.

'Well OK, Uncle. But you don't have to…'

'The trouble with you, Frodo Baggins, is you're too considerate. Go and have fun, lad. Anyone would think you're the one who's turning eleventy-one…'

Frodo smiled and kissed my cheek as he left. Sweet boy. Of course he has to have a party for his thirty-third birthday. And I don't _really_ dislike big parties; I just quite often dislike the company. But oh well. One must put up with these things.

As I thought about it, however, an idea started to form in my head. There was no doubt that I would leave the Shire before the year was out. Why not after my birthday? The weather would be mild enough to allow for some walking before the season turned; and it would be my new start. I felt a lot better having decided this, and it was like a weight off my shoulders.

However at this my Ring decided to protest and it was a sudden lead weight in my pocket. I held it in the palm of my hand, stroking the smooth lines, and it soon returned to normal. Funny, how my ring seems to have this effect on me… But no. it is my imagination, nothing more.

When Frodo returned I broached once again the subject of my leaving. We have talked about it much but until now it has not been definite – something possible but not absolutely certain. He seemed to agree fully, although he looked uncertain.

'Frodo, what's wrong?'

'I… I'll miss you, Uncle Bilbo! I've spent the last eleven years with you and… I don't know, Uncle. I'll feel quite lost, without you.'

I squeezed his shoulder.

'I know, lad. I know. And don't think I won't miss you too! This is the hardest thing I'll ever have to do – much harder than leaving the Shire to go on my adventure. My parents were dead and it was just me; I didn't have a family to leave behind then. But leaving you, Frodo, will be so painful. But I have to go, my dear. I don't feel right, and I must go…'

Frodo swallowed and nodded. I hugged him then, and he gripped me tight. I remembered when he was younger and needed comfort in the dark nights, and he would hold onto me as the nightmares receded, as I rocked him gently back to sleep.

'Let's go and make dinner,' I said softly.

We spent the rest of the evening together making pork chops and boiling potatoes and vegetables. We sang as we did so; food songs, drink songs, party songs… Frodo was back to his usual sunny self by the time he went to bed.

I do feel bad for leaving him, like his parents before me; but I must. And I am still here for some months, at least. I know Sam will look after him once I'm gone, and Merry and Pippin. Frodo will not be short of people to spend time with when I am gone, of that I can rest assured!

Perhaps I shall sleep easy tonight, now I have a plan.

* * *

**Trewsday 7****th****: **Now that we have decided to have a party, I must sort out mathoms. I may as well invite everyone – I am Gentlehobbit under The Hill, after all, and it is my responsibility to ensure they all have a good time, I suppose.

If we're having a party, I shall do it properly. I have decided to order the mathoms from the dwarves at Erebor and the men of Dale. They are particularly skilled in crafting. Toys for the children – they will be so special and magnificent they won't have seen anything like them! I have sent a request to King Dáin II of Erebor. It brought back memories of Thorin, that wonderful dwarf who should have been King Under the Mountain, before his life was taken in the battle that also killed his nephews, Fíli and Kíli. They were so young… and I wept again, as I did then.

It soon passed and to take my mind off these thoughts I decided to go and visit the tenants. In the warmer weather they must be busy planting and sowing seeds. The weather is certainly much warmer now. Spring is here, it seems. The best time of year, I think, when everything is fresh and bright, and the world feels clean and new.

I spent the day with the tenants as ate more tea and cake than I have all week. It was lovely, and they all made me promise to visit soon. That reminded me that I must go and visit Hamfast. Perhaps I shall tomorrow, and take plenty of cakes and scones. He does like fruit scones, does Hamfast!

* * *

**Sterday 11****th****:** I did go and see Hamfast the next day. I took lots of cake, and I walked to Number 3, enjoying the spring sunshine. I arrived and Daisy opened the door. She showed me to the little parlour where Hamfast was sitting by the window.

He looked up at me, and grinned.

'Mr Bilbo!' he cried, and made to get up. I stopped him and sat in the chair opposite him.

'I brought us cake,' I said, and showed him the large sponge cake I'd brought.

'Ah, Mr Bilbo; you know me so well,' he sighed, and I laughed.

Daisy brought us each a mug of ale and Hamfast and I spent the day talking. Now that he's left the duties of Bag End to Sam, he spends his time in his garden with his sons and being bossed around by his daughters, he says. He loves all the attention really, I don't doubt.

We spent the day like this, enjoying each other's company - and the cake! Daisy brought us some muffins at tea time, which were divine. The Gamgee girls are as good at baking as Sam and Hamfast are at gardening.

Eventually as the sun began to sink and it grew dark, I decided it was time to leave. I got up and so did Hamfast. At the door I said goodbye and he gripped my hand.

'Thank you for coming, Mr Bilbo. It's been so good to see you.'

'And you, Hamfast. I'll be back soon!'

I set off down The Row. As I walked, I saw Marigold walking along, a basket under one arm and a lad at her side. When I looked closer I saw it was Tom Cotton, one of Rosie's brothers. They greeted me as I walked past. A bit further on, I looked back at them. They had reached the gate of number 3 by that point and as I watched them, Tom quickly planted a kiss on Marigold's cheek. I heard her giggle as she bestowed a longer kiss on his lips. Smiling, I turned away and continued home.

Suddenly I remembered the charm marigold had found in her Yule pudding, signifying a wedding. I don't think the Gaffer will be worrying for too much longer about his unmarried daughters! I reckon they will be celebrating before too long.

* * *

**Mersday 16****th****:** I have spent a lovely evening with Frodo and Sam. Yesterday Frodo got it into his head that he wanted to cook, and invited Sam to come for dinner, running out into the garden to ask him. Poor Sam, he looked a little bewildered at Frodo's sudden appearance, and if they weren't such good friends I'd think he'd only accepted to please Frodo! Frodo's boyish excitement and cheeky grin at Sam's excitement was quite touching to see; I've no doubt Frodo could have charmed the treasure from Smaug's very feet if he had a mind to.

And so today Frodo spent the whole day in the kitchen, filling the smial with heavenly smells, until my stomach rumbling – and it wasn't even time for tea, let alone dinner! Finally Sam arrived at the door, having stepped home to freshen up. He looked quite fetching; I don't doubt that our young master Samwise will have any trouble finding himself a wife, when he comes of age!

Sam and I sat in the parlour while we waited for Frodo to announce that dinner was ready, and Sam read aloud from an adventure tale. Finally Frodo called us to the dining room. He was standing at the head of the table, looking rather hot and flustered but also immensely pleased with himself. On the table behind him was a huge cheese pie, its crust all golden and flaky and melted cheese oozing out, and bowls of peas and carrots and creamy mashed potatoes. Sam's eyes went round.

'You did all this yerself, Mr Frodo? Bless me, if it don't look more delicous'n anything my sisters ever cook!'

Frodo flushed even brighter with pleasure.

'Then let us not waste a moment longer, lads! I'm famished, I tell you, and this glorious smell will send me quite mad if we don't eat soon!' I cut in.

With that we all sat down at the table and Frodo served us huge slices of his cheese pie. And by the Valar, if it didn't taste even better than it smelt! Indescribable. I for one had seconds and Sam finished his third helping before letting out a great sigh and sitting back.

'Mr Frodo, that were the best thing I ever et,' he said, hands on his stomach.

'Well, that's good; but, Sam, you haven't yet tasted my dessert!'

Sam sat up then, and Frodo grinned.

'It's strawberry and apple cake.'

'Oh, well then, no doubt I've got a couple of corners left as need filling…'

Frodo laughed and jumped up, and ran to the kitchen. He came back carrying the cake carefully, along with a large pitcher of cream. It smelled even better than the pie.

And the taste! Heavenly sweet, yet slightly tangy, with the smooth richness of the thick cream… ah, my mouth is watering just thinking about it!

But, delightful as the food was, it was lovely to see Frodo looking so happy. He has been a bit down now that he knows I will be leaving, and so to see him enjoying himself was a joy to my heart. It is clear that he and Sam are very close; Sam would do anything for Frodo. He told me himself, after Frodo was ill. It was not just me who was worried – one evening, as I watched Frodo and he brought me tea, he comforted me and told me Frodo would be alright.

'I know as how you feel though, sir,' he said to me, his face earnest. 'Mr Frodo is my best friend, and without him – well, I would be empty. There's naught I wouldn't do to save him, sir, if you take my meaning.'

Sam, wonderful Sam; so loyal and dedicated. Frodo is lucky to have a friend such as Samwise Gamgee. I am glad for him; I know that when I am gone Sam will look after Frodo. Tonight just strengthened this belief.

* * *

_**A/N: I hope you are enjoying the story so far! There is still quite a while to go, and it's quite a large undertaking. I would really appreciate it if you would **__**review**__** (even if you don't like it – the aim is always to improve!) – it would be nice to know what people think and whether it's worth continuing.**_

_**So, my dear reader, happy reading and please please PLEASE let me know what you think! **_


	8. Astron

_**Astron **_(April)

**Hensday 6****th****: **Sam turned 21 today. We celebrated a little at Bag End, and afterwards Sam made his way to the Green Dragon where some of his other friends were waiting to drink to his health! Sam did his usual work in the garden after giving us mathoms; I don't know about Frodo but Sam presented me with a beautiful assortment of pressed flowers – rose petals, crocuses and freesias, their colours bright and all perfectly shaped. I could still smell their light fragrance as I lifted them up to examine them. So fragilely beautiful.

Once Sam had finished outside I ushered him inside to the kitchen, where Frodo was waiting with a huge cake he'd made. Sam blew out the candles and we all dug in – it was a good cake! After a few slices each and a couple of cups of tea – we decided against ale as no doubt Sam will have plenty tonight! – Sam left, taking the rest of the cake for his gaffer and the rest of the family to share. He seemed surprised, really, that we would remember his birthday.

Ah, Samwise. I remember when he was just a faunt and called me 'Misser Billo', his child's tongue not able to form my name properly. It makes me sad, sometimes, that now he is official gardener of Bag End he feels he must behave in a manner more fitting than perhaps he used to – and while perfectly understandable it is hard not to miss the old, carefree Sam. But that is life, I suppose. I still miss the young Bilbo who so spontaneously ran out of his home one morning to go on an adventure, not this old man I've become. But these matters are slightly depressing to dwell on, on such an occasion as a birthday!

And so Sam is now 21, officially into his tweens, and still has more hobbit-sense than most lads his age! In fact Frodo was 21 when he came here to live with me. A quiet lad he was, but even he did the odd silly thing – breaking into Farmer Maggot's crops repeatedly, for starters! Oh yes, Frodo has come on a long way since the slightly impetuous lad who'd often come running home covered in grass stains and mud with twigs in his hair and pocketfuls of mushrooms!

I hope Sam has a good time today. If anyone deserves it, it is him. As we sat with the cake I raised a toast to him.

'To Samwise Gamgee; there exists no better gardener in all of Middle-Earth!'

'Or friend,' Frodo added as we drank. Sam blushed quite as red as the raspberries that decorated his cake.

* * *

**Sunday 17****th****: **It is so much warmer now; at times one can walk out without a jacket. I have been taking advantage of this clement weather and going on walks – I am experiencing the Shire once more, and I hope to do the same in the summer months, so that I shall always remember the Shire in all her beauty at the time of new life and glory, even when I am no longer here.

Last week I was in Buckland, near Brandy Hall. I followed the Brandywine River along its course. It looked so peaceful and pleasant, and it was; but I could not help but be reminded of that morning 21 years ago, not dissimilar from that one, when everything changed – when two hobbits' lives were taken and one little lad became an orphan. It was so unexpected – I remember the chaos that ensued, as no one knew what to do. To lose both parents, at the same time and at such a young age? That is a very rare thing indeed in the Shire. For Frodo was only 12 years old when his parents were so cruelly snatched from him. How did he, so small as he was, bear it? I don't know, and I can only marvel at his strength; for strength he has, that I do know. Hopefully he shall never more have need of it, and will lead a life of calm and serenity in the Shire, and never worry about anything more than what crops are in season and looking after tenants and having children.

But even in despair there is hope - in that year of sorrow, when for so many life seemed to have stopped, everywhere else it went on. Why, our very own Sam was born! And so I can never truly lose hope; I know that there is still joy to be found.

The week before that, I was walking in Tuckborough and the surrounding fields. I felt like I was a child again, running around after my Took cousins. I remember tearing through the maze-like tunnels of Great Smials, chasing after my older cousins as we played Catch and Hide and Seek. I would always lose at Tag, my legs being so much shorter than theirs, but at Hide and Seek I will admit I was _particularly_ good at, for I am quiet even by hobbit standards!

Those days were so carefree and happy; it gladdens my heart to relive them. There is nothing like remembering one's childhood to make one feel young again!

Most recently of all my wanderings I found myself walking down that very same road as I ran down all those years ago after Gandalf, that wily old wizard, guilt-tripped me into joining the dwarves' crazy mission after accusing me of not living up to my Took heritage. It was probably the best thing he ever did.

I came to know those dwarves as brothers – the brothers I never had. I often think of them in Erebor, and hope that they are happy. After so long spent without a home and fighting for one – they deserve to be content. It was remembering Hobbiton and Bag End with all its cosy armchairs and great fireplaces that kept me going on the quest, and gave me the determination to help them, if I could.

Oh, look at me now; I'm going all sentimental. I've always prided myself on showing none of the signs of old age – sentimentality included! – and now look at me, reminiscing at every turn. Perhaps remembering does only serve to make you feel old. But perhaps it is a good thing; it feels right to relive those moments, these fragments of my old life, before I discard them and start a new life completely.

* * *

**Sterday 23****rd****: **I am alone in the smial for a a week or two now, as Frodo has gone to stay at Brandy Hall with his cousins. Although Frodo is quite a bit older than most of them they look up to him, and it doesn't seem to be a barrier to their enjoyment in any way at all – indeed, the younger ones seem to delight in seeing how much mischief they can get a nearly full-grown hobbit to partake in!

I do hope Frodo is enjoying himself. Admittedly I have not been, these past few days: I have been bed-ridden and Sam has been tending to me, in Frodo's absence. I have been feeling so weak again; it is an effort to simply wake up in the mornings. I thought I was well again, but evidently not. The dizziness first came after Frodo had been gone only a day. I was alone in the smial, sitting in the study. I must have cried out, as the next thing I knew Sam was helping me up – somehow I had slipped of my chair, although I have no recollection of doing so – and sorting me out, fetching me tea with a little brandy and something to eat.

I did not fully feel better afterwards and continued to feel slightly woozy even until bedtime. I was no better the next morning, so I stayed in bed and slept, thinking that perhaps I had just tired myself out with all the walking I'd been doing recently. But still I did not feel well, and for two days after the incident I did not get up, until Hensday evening when I got up for dinner, a delicious stew made by Sam. Worth getting up for, it was!

I am better now it appears, which is good. I hate being unwell, as it reminds me of how old I am. And I hate being old; although I do not look it I _feel_ old. My bones creak sometimes and often I find a task that was once so simple, such as placing a book back on the top shelf, is not so easy as it once was, and more often than not that book ends up put in the pile that waits for Frodo to do it for me.

While I am glad Frodo is off having fun and in the company of those closer to his own age, and not just an old hobbit who can't do a simple job any more, I do hope he comes home soon. The smial is so empty without him, and the silence is suffocating. The only distraction I have now is Sam in the garden with his gardening; I sit outside and watch as he expertly goes about his tasks, and we talk. He understands my need to talk to someone and he indulges me; lets me prattle on about nonsense until I run out of things to say. His kindness is great; I feel lucky to know such a hobbit as Samwise Gamgee.

* * *

_**A/N: A HUGE Thank You to all of you who are reviewing, and to those of you adding this to your follows/favourite list, but I would really love to know what you think, so please review as well! Reviews make such a difference - they give me the encouragement I need to carry on with this story. So again a really big thanks to my reviewers, and big 'please' to everyone else! :)**_

_**I hope you liked this chapter. I apologise for the long delay in posting but I've had so many exams - A-levels you see, what a pain! But they're all over now - yay! So I will hopefully be able to post a lot more regularly now.**_

_**That's it for now, so until next time, Happy Reading! :)**_

_**(And don't forget to type something into that review box, regardless of whether you like this or not: I would like to know so that I can improve!)**_


	9. Thrimidge

_**Thrimidge**_ (May)

**Trewsday 10****th****: **I am back to my usual self again! Up and about once more, attending to business – the accounts, visits, and all the other jobs that come as part of my role as Gentlehobbit under The Hill.

Frodo came back at the end of Astron, looking like a tween again – his grin as he greeted me suggested he'd been got into all sorts of trouble at Brandy Hall! And probably got away with it all too, no doubt. Esmerelda and Saradoc have always had a soft spot for Frodo ever since he first went to live there at twelve years old.

He was worried when he heard about my brief spell of weakness; I assume Sam told him when he saw Frodo had arrived back. Frodo walked in through the front door and greeted me warmly, giving me a big hug and presenting me a parcel of biscuits Esmerelda had baked for me, and once the kettle was on and we were sat in the kitchen waiting for it to boil Frodo looked at me.

'Uncle, I've heard you weren't well while I was away.'

I muttered something back at him, but he was undeterred.

'Uncle, you should have sent a message. I would have come back sooner-'

'Yes, and spoilt your holiday. It was nothing too serious, Frodo lad; you rarely leave Hobbiton and it would have been unfair of me to call you back for such a trifling matter,' I replied quickly.

Frodo started to pour the now boiling water onto the tea leaves as he spoke.

'From what I was told, it wasn't a very 'trifling' matter at all, Uncle. You were bed-ridden for three days! No-one in the village saw you out at all.'

'Frodo, my boy. I promise you I was not _that_ unwell; I was just overtired. Frodo, it's being here – my heart is yearning to leave and while I cannot just yet, it rails against being cooped up here; so much so that it tires me. That's all.'

Frodo looked troubled. I knew he was then going to ask me why I _was_ staying, if it was making me ill. I knew that if I told him that I was staying for our birthday, he would instantly tell me to leave, to go now; that his birthday was not important and I shouldn't stay here for him. How could I tell him that I _wanted _to stay for him? I can't leave Frodo before he comes of age; aside from being wrong and unfair, it would probably also be illegal, as I am still his guardian and it is my duty to look after him. It would cause all sorts of trouble and I doubt the Mayor would look too kindly on me if I did!

Instead of trying to explain this to him I just sighed and set his teacup down in front of him.

'Well, I'm not dead, so let's just forget this whole matter and move on. How about some of those biscuits Esmerelda gave you with the tea? Are they the cranberry ones? Ah, she knows they're my favourite…'

Frodo continued to frown at me but I ignored it. I would not say anything more on the subject and eventually Frodo's face relaxed into its more customary smile. The biscuits _were _cranberry ones – they have been my favourite since childhood; my mother used to make them so well. Esmerelda is the only one who makes cranberry biscuits of anywhere near my mother's standard! I must write and thank her, and probably also apologise for any trouble Frodo caused. Judging by a new patch I saw stitched onto his shirt, it looks like he was involved in all sorts of havoc…

* * *

**Monday 16****th****: **Frodo has been coming on my walks with me recently, listening to my tales and stories of days long past. He gave me an idea one afternoon, as we were walking along a forest path, the dappled shadows a welcome relief from the summer sun.

I was telling him all about the adventure in Mirkwood when the dwarves got caught up by the spiders, and when I finished he was smiling.

'You enjoyed it all really, didn't you, uncle?'

'Of course, my lad. The quest is possibly one of my best memories.'

He stopped and looked at me.

'I know you think no-one cares, but you've never really told anyone all about your adventure except me. Why don't you write it down? Write your story, Bilbo. Even if it's just so that you could remember it all again.'

I'd never really thought about it, but I could. Why not? What harm was there? And Frodo was right; I could go back an remember every moment of my time as part of Thorin and Company. Ever since I started going on these walks, I've had memories flitting through my mind constantly. This would be a good way to sort them, as it were, and perhaps regain a little order in my brain in the process!

So the very next day I went to the bookshop and brought a beautiful tome of crimson leather binding and thick, smooth creamy paper: a worthy volume in which my adventure will be recollected and kept; between the soft vellum pages my story will play out.

* * *

**Hensday 18****th****: **Now that I have decided to tell my story, I have been finding all my old mementos and trinkets that I kept from my travels. Then I remembered the mithril shirt Thorin gave me, the beautiful chain shirt that is harder than dragon scales and can apparently protect from any attack.

(It is indeed a fine specimen; light as no other metal – light enough for even a Halfling to wear with ease! - and of a silvery hue, decorated with gems and pearls. I don't doubt that I really looked rather ridiculous when I wore it, but it was a gift and a beautiful one at that.)

Then I remembered that the mithril shirt is actually in the museum in Michel Delving, put there a couple of years after my adventure so that any who might want to see it can.

Although their numbers are probably few: this is the Shire-folk we're talking about; the people here barely trust produce from Bree, let alone anything from as far east as the Lonely Mountain! That beautiful mithril shirt is probably sitting in a cabinet gathering dust. I have written to the curator and sent the letter off by Quick Post, so hopefully it will be delivered soon; I should like to have it here with me as I write.

Thankfully I never needed it, beautiful though it is!

* * *

**Mersday 26****th****: **The weather was so fine when I awoke this morning, the sunlight streaming in through my window as bright as anything although it was not yet the seventh hour of the clock, that I woke Frodo and suggested we went for an impromptu picnic. We packed many fruits and cakes, sandwiches and cheeses, and great pitchers of lemonade. When Sam walked up the garden path an hour later, Frodo and I immediately asked him if he would accompany us. He seemed concerned about the garden and not wanting to impose, but when I firmly told him the garden was not important for today, he agreed.

We set off along the East Road, heading in the direction of Waymoot, until we came to the hill I always used to come to with my parents on sunny summer days. I have been a few times with Frodo, but the overriding memory of this place is being with my parents.

We would spend the whole day there; there is a stream nearby which I used to paddle in while my parents watched and laughed, and I remember my father often joining me, the water coming up to my knees when it reached only halfway up his calf. The best times were when Mother would paddle too, and they would pretend to race me as I ran ahead – until I fell over, which I often did, and I would shake my wet clothing at them and splash them, until everyone was damp and bedraggled but laughing; and we would lie in the sun until we were dry while Father read to us. Those were good days; when I remember things like that I often wonder why I never married, had children of my own; but the thought soon passes. I have Frodo now and he is everything I could want.

Sam, Frodo and I climbed up the hill to the top and settled under one of the many trees that afforded us welcome protection from the sun's glaring heat.

Frodo spread out the soft picnic blanket and set down the food hamper. As I settled down in between two knotted roots that protruded above the ground, I saw the stream, its surface glittering and sparkling like so many crystals in the sun, and I couldn't help but smile. I had spent so many days of my childhood here, exploring this very area. It hadn't changed in all that time…

Frodo must have seen me staring, because his voice interrupted my train of thought.

'Uncle, what's wrong?'

'Wrong, lad? Nothing's wrong. Everything is right.'

I turned and smiled at him, and he smiled at my expression.

At that we heard a low grumbling sound, and started suddenly, looking around. Sam blushed and coughed.

'Excuse me, Mr Bilbo, Mr Frodo. I think I'm hungry. Is it time for elevenses yet, sir?'

We laughed at that. I had forgotten that I was actually very hungry, so lost was I in the past.

'Of course, my dear boy! Tuck in!'

Frodo had got some of the food out, leaving plenty for lunch, and we all dug in promptly, enjoying tartlets of flaky pastry and asparagus heads with tangy goat's cheese; morsels of roast beef and ham in a sandwich of light and fluffy bread; sweet cakes with raisins and cherries. Soon we had all eaten our fill and sat back lazily against the tree trunk. We watched the world go by, as it is wont to do; we watched the skylarks and swallows swooping through the air, forming complicated yet beautiful formations as they flew together, each of them precisely in coordination with the others; the sounds of the sparrows and nightingales filled the air and soothed us into a state of sleepy contentment; the brook bubbled and sang as it flowed steadily downhill. It was so peaceful here; here, away from everyone else, it is a peaceful haven where I can forget neighbours and prying relatives and just live in the moment – the moment being here, sitting under a great oak tree with the bark rough against my back, the soft breeze caressing my skin and ruffling my hair and the sun shining and warming me through.

I felt Frodo stir beside me and I sat up rather blearily; I had nearly fallen asleep there. There is something about the summer sun that is so relaxing; I have fallen asleep many a time sitting in the garden of Bag End, my book lying forgotten on my lap!

I looked at Frodo and Sam, rather more awake than myself, and a thought occurred to me.

'Frodo, Sam, on the other side of the brook there's a patch of wild strawberry plants. I used to pick the strawberries there when I came with my parents as a child; they should be ripe and ready to pick by now.'

Sam's face had brightened considerably at my words, and Frodo was also looking very pleased at the prospect. They scrambled to their feet eagerly and set off in the direction I pointed. Frodo leaped nimbly over the little stream and carried on, then stopped when he realised Sam was still at the stream, diligently finding stable enough stepping stones to get him across without getting more than his feet wet.

Eventually he made it and joined Frodo on the other side, and the two ran off to find the strawberries. I hoped there were lots of strawberries there, as I'd made Frodo bring a large jug of cream especially for the purpose of having strawberries and cream! They came back a while later, each carrying a great load of ripe little strawberries – so many that they had to untuck their shirts and use them as a basket! Thankfully neither of them had worn white shirts, but I didn't doubt that Sam's sisters would have something to say about the red juice smudges visible on the green material. It didn't look like Sam cared that much though; his face was the picture of joy as he carried his precious load to the blanket. I fetched out a large bowl and the two emptied the piles of strawberries into it.

'Time for lunch, lads, eh?' I said. They agreed and we all started on the next lot of food. Pies and breads and meats and cheeses and cakes and pastries and all manner of delicious treats we consumed then, but kept the strawberries until last.

I pulled out the jug of cream which was a little warm, but had been kept in the shade so wasn't too bad. Reverently, Sam held out a bowl full of the jewel-like little fruits and I poured in the cream, the stream of thick liquid sweet and the perfect complement to the sharp and tangy strawberries. Being Sam's and my favourite, we savoured them; rolling them around on the tongue and relishing each bite as the sour juices burst out of the sweet crimson flesh of the fruit.

All too soon, they were finished. Full and content, we all sat back again and Sam gave a loud sigh of satisfaction.

'Now that were a treat, and no mistake,' he said happily.

'I'm glad you liked them, Sam. I used to spend so much time picking those strawberries; my mother always used to berate me because I ate so many and managed to get the juice all over my face and on my clothes. Many a shirt of mine was ruined because of my rather over-enthusiastic strawberry consumption!'

He and Frodo laughed, and I smiled.

Suddenly Frodo sprang up.

'Sam, let's go in the stream!'

Sam sat up, but he didn't look terribly excited about Frodo's proposal.

'Really, Mr Frodo? But we'd get all wet and I didn't bring any spare clothes,' he asked anxiously.

'Sam, it's so hot today you'll dry off so quickly you won't even have realised you got wet in the first place! Come on, it'll be nice and cool,' Frodo said, trying to encourage Sam to join him. Then he turned on the power of those big eyes, looking at Sam so earnestly, and Sam didn't have a hope of denying him!

'Alright, Mr Frodo. I guess my feet are a little warm…'

Sam shuffled over to the stream, where Frodo was already paddling about. He took a tentative step in, but then changed his mind when it went to above his ankle and went to stand instead on one of the stepping stones he'd used earlier.

'Come on, Sam! It's lovely once you get used to it.'

Still not looking entirely convinced, Sam dipped his toe into the water and then set his foot firmly onto the riverbed, and gave a little gasp as the cold water assaulted him, but kept his foot in. Gingerly he did the same with the other foot, and then he was standing there in the stream, shoulders slightly hunched, and not looking entirely at home. Frodo soon chased away any fears that remained and not long after the two of them were splashing around like tweens – which of course, Sam is; he just acts a lot older than his 21 years; and Frodo's capacity for enjoyment in the simple things in life is very great indeed.

When they finished playing around they came back, their trousers sodden and damp curls plastered to their foreheads, but they were both laughing and Sam looked for all the world as if he could never have imagined a better way to spend the day than splashing around in a brook.

They lay down on the grass nearby so as not to wet the blanket and we sat in companionable silence as we enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Frodo was right – the two of them were pretty much dry within half an hour.

Sam looked at me as he lay there.

'Mr Bilbo, sir, if you don't mind, would you as tell us some more stories from when you were a faunt?'

Surprised, I looked at Sam.

'Really? You want to know about when I was little?'

Sam nodded.

'You looked so happy when you spoke about the strawberries and your mother.'

'It's true. I do like remembering when I was a child. They were very happy days…' I trailed off, as I wondered what to tell them first.

I told them about going walking in the forest with my mother when I was small, about how we would go and my mother would show me the edible mushrooms and those you mustn't touch; how she taught me about which fruits and berries were only good for birds, which were poisonous and all the different properties of the ones you _could_ eat – elderberries, which made a delicious syrup; cherries – my mother's favourite jam; hawthorn apples, which my father would make into a pie. I told them about going walking with my father, how we would make bird screens out of twigs and he would teach me all the different birds and how to identify them, and he would challenge me as we walked home to guess which bird it was by their call. There was the time I found an injured robin one winter, cheeping feebly as it slowly weakened out there in the cold. I remember carrying him home ever so carefully, keeping him warm; and my mother gently healing him with her soft hands, so clever and as able at soothing the bird's hurts as she was at chasing away mine, and ridding me of night scares when she would hug me tight and whisper soothing words as she rubbed my back. I was sad when the robin was well enough to fly away, and we let him go.

Then I told them about my adventures with my cousins; finding boulders and standing up tall on them and pretending to be mighty kings of powerful kingdoms, as each cousin tried to be better than the others, and the ever more ridiculous claims we would make about our 'kingdoms' – 'my kingdom's palace was built by giants'; 'my kingdom has dragons which light the palace fires every night'. I told them about all the time we spent making mischief in Great Smials and getting into all sorts of trouble.

When I finished clouds were starting to cover the sun, and the breeze that was now turning gusty had a chill to it. Sam was sitting there, hanging onto my every word; he has always loved stories. A smile was playing on Frodo's lips.

I made to stand up.

'It'll be getting dark soon. We should start heading back.'

We cleared up swiftly and started back on the road home. We didn't speak much, but we didn't need to. It had been a beautiful day and I for one was happy to simply observe my surroundings, the gently changing landscape as we got closer to Hobbiton.

We walked up the Row with Sam to drop him off home. At the gate, he turned at thanked us.

'It's been a wonderful day, Mr Frodo, Mr Bilbo. Thank you.'

'Thank you for coming with us, Sam,' I smiled and he nodded.

'I'll have to teach you to swim next time, Sam,' Frodo laughed.

Sam shook his head. 'Oh no sir, my feet are happy to stay firmly on the ground, thank you!'

We said goodbye and got home just as dusk was drawing in. Over in the west the sky was tinged with hues of fiery orange and dusky pink as the sun set. We had a quick tea, just some toast and cheese and a cup of tea, and then we went to bed. I am pleasantly tired. As I lie here in bed, I can smell sun and strawberries. This has been a treasure of a day.

* * *

**_A/N: I really hope you liked this chapter! It's probably one of my favourites; I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!_**

**_I'd love to know what you think so please review; reviews mean everything and they are so encouraging. Even if you don't like it, I want to know why, so I can avoid making the same mistakes! :)_**

**_Anyway thank you SO MUCH for reading, and I really really hope you liked this! :) Please Review!_**


	10. Forelithe

_**Forelithe **_(June) _**and Lithe Day**_

**Mersday 3****rd****: **Today a number of items arrived for me.

Firstly, my mithril coat finally arrived! I must complain about the postal service as it has taken an extremely long time to get here, and somehow I don't think all the blame lies on poor Mrs Banks at the museum – she's nearly ninety and while perhaps not the most efficient of workers any more, she is a kindly soul and treats all the items in the museum with respect, and always completes a job – even if it does take a while.

Secondly I received a letter. The paper was not of a kind found in the Shire, and when I opened it I realised why – it was from the elves of Rivendell welcoming me into their abode, when I do decide to go. Gandalf must have fixed up for me, as I admit I have not even approached sorting it out yet! But here it is, sorted out for me and ready, so that is one job which is lifted from my shoulders. That Elven paper is of extremely high quality; I quite covet it. Perhaps when I am settled there and feel able to presume more upon my hosts, I shall ask for some of that fine paper. Frodo would be ever so excited to receive my letters if they were written on Elvish paper!

I have not started my book yet; I do not feel quite ready. I am not sure when I shall feel able but for now it is a joy to be able to remember it and know that soon enough I will be able to recount it.

* * *

**Monday 14****th****:** Sam came to work worried today and I made him tell me why he was distracted; jumpy and making mistakes on tasks he usually does so simply. He told me that the gaffer is ill – heatstroke, he said. While it is awful that poor Hamfast is not well it is hardly surprising – the weather has been so hot these past few weeks; hotter than normal for Forelithe. It normally does not reach temperatures such as this until at least Afterlithe but it is more common in Wedmath to have scorching hot days. I hope the weather does not stay quite as hot and dry as this, or else there will be problems with the crops and the water will run short. I let Sam go home and shortly followed him, after quickly rushing back into the smial and heading to the pantry where we keep all the medicines.

I found a bottle of a recipe my mother swore by; of course it wouldn't cure the heat-stroke but it would help replace the fluids and prevent dehydration, and reduce discomfort. Quickly packing it into a basket along with a couple of cakes for when Hamfast was feeling better, I set off, calling to Frodo where I was going as I went.

I feel terrible as I have not been to visit Hamfast anywhere near as much as I should. I have been quite a few times since the last time I wrote of, but nowhere near as much as I should have. I owe it to him to have visited a bit more, not only because he has tended my garden beautifully these past years and under his ministrations it has flourished; but I owe it to him also as a friend. We have known one another a long time, and I count him a very dear friend indeed.

I got to Number Three and May opened the door to me. She looked tense but assured me that Hamfast would be fine; he was just over-tired and the heat had affected him more than usual, and that he would be well again very soon.

Still, I spoke with him and he was pleased to see me; I am ashamed that it took him being ill to get me to visit. I feel particularly guilty, as in a couple of months' time I will no longer be here and will be unable to visit at all, so I really must make more of an effort to make sure my last months here are spent with friends as much as possible.

We spoke for a while but after a few minutes he fell asleep, so I quietly left the room and shut the door softly behind me. I went to speak to May again and she thanked me for coming, and told me how much it gladdened Hamfast when I came to visit him. That gave me a lump in my throat and I felt even worse then. She smiled and said not to worry, but I do anyway. I will make a concerted effort to spend more time with Hamfast from now on; it is inexcusable that I have not seen him this past month. I walked back to Bag End this afternoon and my heart was heavy; Frodo saw me when I came in and said not a word, just pressed a cup of hot steaming tea into my hands and sat me down.

He understood, and that evening we didn't speak much but he kept me company, staying and sitting next to me as the sky grew dark outside. As the fire began to dim we each retuned to our rooms, and now I am in bed. The lamp's light is soft beside me but I fear I will not sleep much tonight. My heart is troubled and anxious after today, and I wonder how my actions will affect others.

* * *

**Sterrenday 19****th****: **Since Hamfast's slight illness I have visited him, and took him some butter cake which I know he is particularly fond of. He was fine within a couple of days but it served as a reminder to me of quite how old _I_ am, and it scares me sometimes.

Today all morbid thoughts were swept away, however, as Frodo has decided to enter the baking competition at this year's Lithe Festival, so we were practising his recipe and tweaking and perfecting. My, the results were fine! He decided on a honey and raspberry cheesecake; the sharpness of the fruits offset by the sweetness of the honey.

We spent the morning whisking up the soft cream cheese with sugar, cream and the honey, until it created soft peaks of gentle yellow hues; crushing biscuits with a few drops of lemon juice to give them a tiny hint of zesty flavour but not so much that it overpowers the other flavours.

When it was set and ready to eat, we eagerly dug in; spoons at the ready , we scooped up great spoonfuls and ate them slowly, delighting in the complementary juxtaposition of sweet and sharp, of thick and thin, of delicious, sense-filling fruits and creamy, luxurious cream cheese perfectly balancing each other out.

It was good enough to win, that much was for certain. Not that Frodo cared particularly; he cooked simply for the pure enjoyment he got from it, rather than from a desire to win and receive accolades.

We began to squeeze lemons too, to make lemonade. My mother had always made lemonade for the Lithe festival, and I continued the tradition by making it exactly to her recipe. Pressing the lemons, extricating pips, heating water and sugar to make a syrupy mixture which kept the lemonade sweet when mixed with the lemon juice. I always added fresh mint leaves, too, and sometimes I would make a batch with ginger. I always loved ginger lemonade.

When our lemonade was done, we drank deeply – it was hot now, the day reaching the hottest point in the early afternoon. Cool and fresh lemonade was perfect. Frodo took a glass out to Sam, and I went and sat outside on the bench. I stared down towards the village, watching the hustle and bustle, when a movement caught my eye. At the garden gate, walking slowly and deliberately past the smial and peering around as if locating someone, was a hobbit lass. I frowned, trying to recall when I had seen her before, and then I remembered. It was Rosie Cotton, who I'd seen at the Harvest festival. No doubt looking for Sam.

I let out a little chuckle, and hearing the noise, she blushed as she saw me watching her and quickly hurried off. I stood up to find Sam.

'There was someone on the path you might want to see. If you hurry she might still be there,' I said to him, and I saw Sam colour slightly, but he nodded and got up quickly, then hurried off in the direction Rosie had gone.

She looked to be a nice enough girl, and she obviously liked Sam. They would do well together, I hope. Still chuckling at the memory of young love, I retreated back into the smial and the cool shade.

* * *

**Lithe Day: Festival**

Frodo and I made more lemonade and cheesecake yesterday, ready for today.

And what a day today has been!

We saw them yesterday erecting a huge pole in the Party Field and tying ribbons to it; you could see the hobbit lasses in their gardens practicing their steps for the dances today.

This morning the day was bright and sunny, and you could tell that it was going to be hot later. People were up early, and the village was busy even though it was early.

Frodo and I dressed, donning our special waistcoats saved specifically for parties and festivals. I must say, Frodo looked quite fetching; it's no wonder half the lasses in Hobbiton have fallen for him!

We made our way down to the Party Field in the late morning, setting up our food at the stall. Mrs Puddifoot was delighted with Frodo's cheesecake, and complimented him on it several times, and Frodo grew pinker every time. He is too modest.

At noon, all of Hobbiton – and many hobbits from other parts of the Shire too! – was assembled in the Party Field as the Mayor welcomed everyone and kicked things off. There was a band, and they immediately started playing. A steady stream of young lads and lasses made their way to the great pole and all grabbed a ribbon each. The ribbons were bright and colourful, representing the glory of summer. Fuchsia pinks, pansy purples and sky blue ribbons; some were dusky orange, others the colour of young green leaves when sun shines through them, causing them to glow.

When everyone had a ribbon they all began to move in time to the music – four steps in, four back out. Gradually the dance began to get more difficult, until the dancers were twisting and ducking and weaving in and out of each other while still holding the ribbons and not tangling them. I used to dance like that, and was considered to be very good; now I doubt I could move even half as fast as these young things were doing today.

It was joyous to behold, to sit there and observe as we celebrated the beauty of the land and happiness of summer. Frodo wasn't dancing, but in the group of visitors from various parts of the Shire there were some Bucklanders, and among them his cousins Merry and Pippin - those two are inseparable! - so he spent the afternoon with them, running around and getting into mischief. Frodo is so funny; quiet and reserved most of the time but as soon as the mood takes him as wild as a tween. I allowed him his trouble making today; next year he will be an adult and will not be able to.

I joined Hamfast at a table, spying him sitting alone, while his sons and daughters danced. We ate much food today, and my stomach is full to burst even now. Frodo's cheesecake was gone within the first hour or so; we sampled many other cakes and puddings and snacks, all of them divine, and we were steadily plied with ale from the generous servers. And fine ale it was too!

Hamfast was smiling and looking very content, a satisfied kind of content, and I asked him what had happened to cause him to look like the cat that got the cream. He nodded over at the dancers.

'My Marigold's only gone and danced every single dance with Tom Cotton, and there's Samwise still dancing with that lass Rosie,' he smiled. I could have even sworn there was a slight tear in his eye as he observed his sons and daughters, but those two in particular.

'They both make handsome couples,' I commented. The Gamgees were certainly a fine looking family, and Sam was looking very smart in his waistcoat and Marigold's dress was particularly flattering. She looked delighted at her good fortune in dancing with Tom; Sam, while happy, looked as if he couldn't believe his luck and seemed nervous, as if at any second it would all be blown away.

'Aye,' the gaffer agreed.

We said nothing more on the matter, but I know he is incredibly proud of his children. I am sure Marigold will not be long now in becoming betrothed, seeing as she is already of age.

The day passed so fast in a blur of colour and music and sun, and soon it was dark. The Party Tree had been lit up with candles, and it had an ethereal quality about it. The beauty of such simplicity struck me, as it always does. I love it when all is dark and the tree is glowing, shining like a beacon, the guttering flames casting dancing shadows. It seems other-worldly in its beauty.

Soon the dancing was coming to an end and families were starting to disperse and return home. Hamfast's daughters came to collect him and bring him home, and Frodo came to find me too. He was flustered and flush-faced, but looked as if he had had a wonderful time. He had danced, he told me, when Merry and Pippin insisted he was being unfair on all the poor lasses who were batting their eyelids and smiling at Frodo whenever he walked past. It sounds like he has had an exciting time indeed.

I feel happy tonight. It is summer and I am surrounded by beauty, and I have friends and people I love. I have left the window open; the soft breeze, still slightly warm, feels so delightful on my skin. I can see the Party Tree, glimmering away like a torch to keep me safe in my dreams. For tonight at least, I will sleep easy.

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**_A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! Please review; I'd love to know what you think! Thank you for reading :)_**


	11. Afterlithe

**Afterlithe **_(July)_

**Monday 9****th****:** I have been busy recently, collecting and sorting many of my mementos from my adventure. There was the blue hood I received - it is now no longer blue but has rather faded to a sort of anonymous colour – sometimes blue in one light and then grey in another. I have also hoarded many maps, of Middle Earth and the lands around Erebor, and any self-respecting hobbit has maps of the Shire in his collection. In the intervening years between returning from my adventure and Frodo coming to stay with me, I travelled a lot around the various Farthings of the Shire. It satisfied my desire to be on the move and see things, without being such a drastic step as the one I am to make in just a few months.

And then of course there is Sting. My sword, the Elvish blade found in the cave of the trolls that nearly ate the dwarves and myself. It is a fine thing, a real piece of beauty – but then, so is everything that is wrought by Elvish hands. It is perfectly balanced, light, and short enough for even me to use. Thankfully I never had the need to become proficient in wielding it, so I'm afraid it is a rather useless token, but I keep it nonetheless. I shall take it with me, when I leave, as I will the hood. I shall feel like I am going again on that adventure, once more will I be fifty years old, and carefree…

For I have been anything but carefree these past few days. It is so hot; hotter than normal. The heat is cloying and humid, oftentimes, and it makes my head feel heavy and fuzzy, and I cannot get it clear. I have been irritable, lately, and I have found myself being rather abrupt with poor Frodo. The poor lad, it isn't his fault – he usually just wishes to know whether I'd like to eat yet, or where I put a certain book – but I seem to have become a real humbug recently. I really must apologise to him, as it isn't fair of me to take it out on him, but he has wisely distanced himself for the time being, and gone out hiding somewhere. I feel awful, that my own nephew doesn't feel comfortable with me. Perhaps I shall buy him a particularly nice new quill or a book to make it up to him.

In these hot days and moments of tiredness, I find myself unconsciously seeking the Ring. It lies in my pocket at all times, a presence which both comforts and unsettles me. I feel unnerved at the power it has over me – that I can only feel at peace if it is near, if it is with me. Never before have I experienced such an attachment to something…

What am I saying? The Ring is beautiful, flawless. It is precious to me. This is one trinket that I don't think I shall part with when I leave.

* * *

**Sterrenday 14****th**: I know Frodo is worried about me; I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me over dinner, or when we have tea in the parlour. He can see that I have not been eating as much as I used to – and it is true: often I find I am full up, yet when I look at my plate not even half the food has gone. When I look in the mirror, I know I am looking more haggard than usual – I have developed dark bags under my eyes, testament to the sleepless nights I experience in this insufferable heat. I cannot sleep at all, much as I try, for I am too hot even with the window open and no quilts. I have been dozing off in the middle of the day, instead, usually over my books.

To most of the hobbits here I do not look much different to how I did when I left sixty years ago, albeit perhaps my hair has become greyer. But I know what to look for now – my eyes are older, wiser and know more pain than they did; my stature has become stooped – not greatly, but I appear to have shrunk and I can no longer stand fully straight. But then, in the midst of these timely yet unwelcome reminders of how old I am, I am also reminded of something else – this face has known more joy than my fifty year old self; more joy than perhaps is my fair share. There are smile lines around my eyes and mouth, evidence of all the happiness I have experienced. I do believe it is all for Frodo.

These past twelve years have been some of the happiest I have experienced, sharing my home and my life with such a young hobbit as Frodo has been… well, I think he is the best thing that ever happened to me. When I look at him and see his parents looking back at me – he grows more like Drogo by the day, but he has Primula's beautiful head of dark hair – of course my heart grieves that he knew such sorrow at such a young age; and I miss them too – Drogo was my favourite cousin. And yet, even though I miss them, there is still a tiny, selfish, awful part of me which is glad that they are dead – because if they weren't, I would never have had Frodo. He would have featured in my life, certainly – I used to visit them at Yule and at birthdays – but he would not have been such an integral part of it. And so the needy little corner of my soul almost rejoices in their untimely end. And no matter how much I hate it, it is true.

However I think that in death, they would not have minded him coming to live with me. Indeed, I believe that perhaps they would even be glad. Frodo, while happy at Brandy Hall, never received the real care and attention of a mother; being deprived of that, the love and attention that I lavished upon him when he first arrived was the next best thing. And Frodo spent many happy days here at Bag End – I remember chasing the little tyke around when he first learned to walk, and we couldn't catch him for love nor money as he raced around on his chubby little legs pretending to catch dragons. He always loved hearing my stories, and when he used to stay with me by himself when Drogo and Primula went out for the evening and left him in my care, I used to tell him all about my adventure. I received many a cross letter from Primula telling me off afterwards, because Frodo had had nightmares about spiders and trolls and things creeping in the shadows. Of course, that never put him off asking to hear them again next time we were together!

No, Frodo is dear to me, and I am glad every day for the happiness he brought me so late in life. Ever shall I owe it to him.

* * *

**Trewsday 23****rd****: **It continues to be hot, exceedingly so, and at this rate the crops shall be affected. Many times this week have I seen Sam in the garden shaking his head over the state of the plants as he has fetched more water from the pump. I fear this is a sentiment felt all over the Shire.

I continue to just feel so _tired_. This is not how I had envisaged spending my last few months in the Shire! Cooped up in the smial seeking shade and napping through the day with sleepless nights… evidently age finally seems to be catching up with me. Unless… no. It is age, simply, nothing more.

Frodo finally decided that I was doing myself no favours by holing up, and made me walk with him today.

'You're pale, uncle, and you look sick,' he told me bluntly this morning. 'We're going for a walk.'

I didn't want to, at first, but when he got out my light cotton shirt and thinnest pair of breeches and handed them to me, I knew I didn't really have a choice. If Frodo wanted me to go for a walk, I would go for a walk, is what the steely glint in Frodo's blue eyes told me. And by that point I decided I _did_ want to; wasn't I the one complaining about how this was not the manner I had planned to spend my last months here?

Dear, considerate Frodo; he had prepared me a lovely breakfast – eggs and bacon, perfectly cooked, and he had only served me a small portion, having observed my rather reduced appetite. And it was indeed delicious.

With food in my belly and determination in my heart, I felt stronger than I have done all month. Leaning on Frodo for support, we stepped out. Frodo led me to the woods behind Bag End, where the trees afforded us blessed sweet shade, cool and with the faintest breath of a breeze that lightly swept our faces. It was almost a hallucination of a breeze, but it felt so good compared to the oppressive stuffiness of the smial. I regretted that I had not stepped out sooner. This was just another moment which proved to me the simple kindness of Frodo and how much I needed him. As if I needed confirmation of that fact; but there it was.

We walked mostly in silence but for the hushed swaying of the trees which sometimes threw a brief beam of sunshine onto us, gloriously warm. I had already apologised to Frodo about how short I'd been with him earlier, but the guilt was renewed in me as the thought of how reliant I am on him once more entered my brain.

Turning to him, I tried again to apologise, to make sure that he knew how much I cared for him, but he cut me off with simply a disarming smile and a glance from those huge blue eyes. To this day I do not know quite where he got them from; both Drogo and Primula's were green.

'Uncle, it doesn't matter. I forgave you instantly – there will never be a time when I don't,' he said softly.

'But you shouldn't have had to forgive me in the first place,' I protested. 'I shouldn't have been so bad-tempered-'

'Uncle Bilbo, it happens to us all! Remember the time you had to confiscate my books because I'd been rude when you told me stop reading and go to sleep? That was a lesson enough that I should do as you said – with no books I had nothing to do _but_ go to sleep!'

I laughed; how could I not remember that? A just-tweenage Frodo, impetuous and undisciplined, had refused to put his book down and go to sleep, and I, wanting to do right by his parents, had insisted he should. When he told me I was being a 'doddery old gaffer', I put my sizable foot down and took away all his books for a week. It's true that he always did then follow my instructions!

So many memories we share together; how glad I am that I have them. I only hope he does not ever have doubts about his choice in coming to live with me. In my long life, adopting Frodo Baggins hasn't been and never, ever will be something I regret.

* * *

_**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I'm so sorry about the long wait; inspiration deserted me and I wanted to do the chapter justice and not force it, so I do apologise. I really hope you liked the chapter, and I promise I won't keep you waiting too long for the next update! We've only got one more month to go…**_

_**Please Review! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)**_


	12. Wedmath

**Wedmath **_(August)_

**Highday 10****th****:** The weather has grown cooler recently. While unusual for Wedmath, I cannot deny that I am thankful for it. I feel mostly back to my normal self once again, and Frodo seems glad of that.

My departure is so close; I fancy I can almost feel a sense of anticipation in the breeze that blows through the Shire, the whispering of the trees a herald of my leaving. I will be glad to go, but I do so worry about Frodo. _Why_ do I feel such fear for him? There is this constant weight upon my shoulders, this ever-present heaviness in my heart, and I know not _why_.

Whatever the cause, my fears are now slightly eased, as over this past week I have done something to remedy them.

I decided to visit the hobbits of Buckland for a few days, and Frodo accompanied me there. Of course the relatives were pleased to see me, and Frodo-lad in particular, and I took the opportunity to spend as much time with them as I could. However there was one hobbit with whom I especially wanted to talk.

Young Meriadoc. Merry, who was a brother to Frodo during their time at Brandy Hall. It is by him that my concerns about Frodo are allayed.

One evening after an especially fine meal when we were all having our after-dinner pipe, I caught Merry's eye as he sat across the room from me. Sending him a pointed glance, I got up and announced my intention to get a breath of fresh air. I went outside through the kitchen, my view overlooking the extensive grounds and gardens of Brandy Hall. Not long after, Merry appeared by my side.

He looked at me quizzically, and I smiled back. He knew something was amiss, but he knows well enough from being surrounded by relatives that an old hobbit takes his time and can't be rushed. We stood together looking at the westering sun, not quite setting but turning the sky on the horizon a delicate blushing shade of pink.

'Merry, young lad,' I began. Once again he turned his sharp gaze on me.

'Yes, Bilbo?'

'Merry, I'm leaving the Shire. Next month, after Frodo's and my birthday party. That's why I'm here, partly; to spend some time with my extended family before I go. No one else knows apart from Frodo, and he is the reason I'm confiding in you, dear boy.'

Merry had looked startled upon hearing that I was leaving, and now his expression was worried at the mention of Frodo.

'I want you to stay with Frodo, after the party. I'll have left, but I don't want Frodo to be left all alone in the smial. He says he'll be fine but he needs people around him, people he loves. Merry, he will need all the support he can get in the weeks after I've gone – not only will he have to adapt to life on his own, but he will also come into his role as Gentlehobbit under The Hill, and that is no easy thing.'

'I understand, Bilbo,' he said, looking back out towards the sun. 'Don't worry, you can rest assured that _alone_ is the last thing Frodo will be! He'll have a hard time getting rid of me, if anything!' Merry's usual grin appeared back on his face.

'Thank you, Meriadoc,' I sighed softly. Smiling, I patted his shoulder and then turned to go back inside. No one had thought anything amiss, but Frodo perceived that something about me was different; that I was more relaxed. Laughing, I shrugged off his observations, but inside I was rejoicing. Frodo is lucky to have family so devoted to him; I've no doubt that Meriadoc really would do anything for him.

* * *

**Sterrenday 18****th****: **Today I did something I thought I would never do. I invited the Sackville-Bagginses over for elevenses. Yes, I did; and the minute Lobelia walked in I was instantly reminded of _why_ I resolved never to do it!

The reason for it was this: I wanted to depart the Shire at least having tried to make amends with my family, detestable as they may be. It would feel wrong if I were to leave without even having attempted to put to rights the rift that has formed between these two strands of my relations; even if the fault is not mine, it is dependent upon myself and all the other Bagginses to fix it.

Although, after today, once again I am sure that the reconciliation will not come in my lifetime! Perhaps if the SB's weren't quite so plain nasty, perhaps there would be a chance… But that is a rather mean observation. I believe Lobelia is simply bitter; bitter and too much indulged. She has always wanted Bag End and I've no doubt that as a child she was used to getting her own way. My adoption of Frodo took her and her family another step further from ever getting their clutches on it, and I can imagine that that is a hard thing to reconcile herself to. I've never believed in spoiling children; it never does them any favours in the long run. I suppose one could say that Lobelia is living proof of this! As is her son, Lotho. No redeeming features in the boy at all.

Well, Lobelia and Otho arrived, and pushed past me as soon as I'd opened the door. I must say that in that moment I was reminded of the Dwarves arriving for their 'tea party' – although Lobelia was not nearly as fair of face or as well-mannered as some of them! Perhaps that isn't _quite_ true, but I will certainly never feel the same affection for her as I did for those Dwarves.

They showed themselves to the parlour, while I hung their coats up on the pegs, and settled down on the soft chairs by the little table where I'd set up some morsels, which Sam had given me a hand with – tasty sandwiches on soft bread and scrumptious dishes of fried and seasoned vegetables, cooled; and delicious little cakes all dusted with soft powdery sugar. It was quite tasty enough that they were kept quiet for a full half hour as we ate.

It was after, when I was pouring tea and coffee that I did what I'd brought them here for.

Handing them each a delicately patterned china cup, I addressed them both, and my tone quite made Lobelia look up, shocked. I suppose she was expecting my usual put-upon sigh, to which she can always respond rudely; I hope that my voice was rather soft and almost happy. Quite a change for Lobelia indeed!

'Lobelia and Otho,' I began. 'I know we have never been on particularly good terms…' (here Lobelia gave a little harrumph – we all know that our terms have always been strained at best and non-existent at worst), 'but I invited you here to say that I really am sorry for the way things are between our two families. I regret that there is this gulf, this feud between us…'

'Bilbo Baggins, have you been at the ale already?' Lobelia's grating voice piped up. 'You're not making sense, and if you invited us here to insult us, then you're doing a very good job of it!'

'My dear Lobelia, please believe me when I say my intention was not to offend you. Quite the reverse, actually. This whole state of affairs is really rather hateful, don't you think?'

'Bilbo, I really don't have time for your ramblings. Perhaps you really are cracking, just like all the folks in town are saying you are.'

With that, Lobelia stood up and flounced out of the room, motioning to her husband to follow her. Otho stood up too, but instead of following his wife straight away, he gave me a curious look, as if assessing whether I was intoxicated, or mad, or both. Then he did the strangest thing – he held out his hand.

'Thank you for tea, Bilbo. It was delicious. I… I do apologise, about… everything.'

Suddenly Lobelia's voice rent the air as she yelled at her husband. 'Otho Sackville-Baggins, will you hurry up! I don't want to stay a moment longer.'

With another quick glance at me, Otho hurried out of the room and I heard the front door click shut after them. I can't say I was sorry to see them go, and I had rather expected them to behave like that. Well, Lobelia's reaction was nothing new; Otho's _was_. Maybe there is hope of reconciliation yet.

* * *

**Sunday 26****th****: **I have spent these past few days with Frodo inside, handwriting all the invitations to our birthday party next month. We have made quite a team: Frodo writing the invitations themselves as with his younger hands he is less likely to make mistakes or - as if mostly the case with myself, get cramp! - and myself addressing and stamping the envelopes. It is little moments like this that I shall miss.

Today, Frodo and I have been sorting the accounts and records for Bag End, getting them all in perfect order for when Frodo takes up his post next month. I couldn't leave him to inherit an estate with its accounts all in a muddle, could I? And so we gathered together all the notes and receipts that we have accumulated and tallied up the figures. I must say, I am losing my touch, and Frodo corrected many a mistake of mine. Dear lad, he seems to enjoy such mundane work, so I can rest easy that if I should ever return, I won't find Bag End a dilapidated old hole. I know Frodo respects it too much for that, anyway.

I also received a letter in the post, and its contents gave me much joy – Gandalf has written ahead to say that he will definitely be attending next month. I cannot say how glad that makes me, and it is curious, but I felt lighter, somehow; the oppressive weight and weakness I have been suffering and concealing, particularly from Frodo, were lessened at this news. I wonder if he will know what ails me; Gandalf is so very wise and if anyone can help me it is he.

Once again the darkness entered my dreams last night. I was there twenty-one years ago when they found Frodo's parents, bloated and pale as they were pulled from the water after the terrible accident. But I could deal with that; what fills me with a dread and a pain so sharp is the wails young Frodo uttered in the dark nights afterwards when loneliness and sorrow filled his soul; the pitiful sobs that racked his small body in the aftermath. It is these things that hurt me, that cut me to the quick. Why does it feel like this dream was a shadow, a forewarning of things to come? Frodo has suffered enough in his short life, and I would that he suffers no more.

I can only hope that it is merely my imagination, and it is only my constant worrying over Frodo which is bringing these memories to the surface and leave me feeling drained when I wake up. I will never tell Frodo all of this; he does not need to hear it. But it gives me all the more reason to hope that Gandalf will know the cause of these dark thoughts, and help me be rid of them.

I leave, next month. Now the time is nearly here I can almost hear the wild whistling of the wind as it speeds over high mountain tops, taste the spray from the fast moving rivers, their waters white with foam, and smell the dank earthiness of foreign woods filled with things unknown. I know in my heart I am making the right decision.

* * *

_**A/N:**** I really hope you enjoyed this! Please review and let me know what you think!**_

_**I'm going to write one more chapter for this story, so don't worry - this isn't the end! :D I hope you will enjoy the last chapter, and this one, and I really want to thank you all for reading and reviewing; I really appreciate it! :)**_


	13. Halimath, II

**Halimath **_(September)_

**Monday 11****th****: **Everyone knows about the party now and there is a sense of expectation and anticipation whenever one walks into the town – and there is still a week and a bit to go until the event! I must say, there's one thing about hobbits and that's that they know how to have a good time!

I have been sorting what I shall leave to various hobbits. Of course the majority will be left to Frodo, but Bag End really does need a clear out.

Ah, in these balmy early autumn evenings, I feel happy. Aside from the nagging fear, which I am growing used to now, there is nothing which marrs my last days here. I am so prepared for leaving though, that I have got my bags all ready, and then unpacked them, thinking it's far too early, and then packing them _again_. Frodo says I'm being idle; that if that's my sole concern I'm evidently not doing enough! Ah, he's right, but he's managing everything else so well, so I don't complain.

All the anticipation is affecting me – I, too, feel excited! Never before have I been so looking forward to my own birthday! Not since my fortieth, when the drudgery of adult life really kicked in. Or knowing me, possibly even my thirty-fifth birthday; I was ever a rather boring hobbit before my adventure!

Whenever I have gone into the town recently I have been besieged by well-wishers, and once or twice I have caught sight of Lobelia and Otho. Otho has sent a tentative smile my way, before his wife has pulled him off in the opposite direction. Perhaps Frodo will be able to further my efforts, and actually get somewhere towards mending relations.

But now, back to the job at hand. It is rather fun, leaving meaningful items to various people. I have the perfect idea – I shall leave Lobelia the silver cutlery set. The one she has always particularly _admired_ on all her numerous visits. Won't she love that? I almost wish I could stay, just to see her face.

* * *

**Mersday 21****st****:** Gandalf has come. It is evening, and the town went to sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. As it grew dark and the stars in the sky shone ever brighter, we talked; about anything and everything. We sat outside under the moon and smoked. When I was sure Frodo was in his room, I brought up the fear and weight I have been feeling, and concealing. I have hated hiding it from Frodo, but I would not ruin his last days of innocence and veritable freedom.

Gandalf looked concerned, and questioned me closely. He hasn't given me a definitive answer, but I believe he knows something. He then asked me about the Ring.

I want to keep it. It is so perfect, so delicate, such a feat of craftsmanship – how could I not want to keep it? I have not parted from it these past sixty years, and I do not know why I should now. I am bequeathing Frodo my lands, my home and all its furniture – he will not miss one little gold ring. He has plenty of jewellery from his mother; this ring appears so insignificant next to those pieces. And yet I do not want to be parted from it.

When it grew chilly we came inside. I went to see Frodo, who was reading in bed. I went in and sat at the end of his bed. The look he gave me was filled with apprehension, and I could see there was sadness there too.

'This is it, Uncle Bilbo,' he said softly. 'Our last night together.'

'Yes, my lad,' I nodded in agreement.

There was silence for a while, and I began stroking his hair gently. He closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows.

'Frodo, I don't know if you ever regret your choice in coming to live here-'

His eyes opened at that.

'Never,' he whispered.

I smiled. 'I do hope you've been happy here, my dear boy. And I will miss you, when I'm gone. But it's not forever, lad; you could visit me, one day, once things are settled down here.'

He smiled.

'I'd like that, Uncle Bilbo.'

'Me too, my boy. Me too.'

He closed the book and I put it on his bedside table. I carefully tucked his quilts in closely around him, like I used to when he was young; like I saw Primula do many times. Then I sat back down on the edge of the bed and we sat like that for a while more, and I gently clasped his hand.

'You come of age tomorrow, lad. I can't believe it, really,' I sighed.

He smiled.

'Neither can I, uncle!'

There was a pause for a moment, and then he looked at me with his huge blue eyes.

'Uncle, I know I'm not a child any more, but… will you sing to me? The song you used to, before?'

'Of course, Frodo. Anything, my dear, _dear_ Frodo.'

He closed his eyes again, and I began to sing.

"_Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!_

_Wind him in his slumber and there let us leave him!_

_The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!_

_Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!_

_Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!_

_Fall moon! Dark be the land!_

_Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!_

_Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!"__*****_

I used to sing him to sleep with this lullaby when he was first a child, and then later when he came to live here; it gave him comfort.

He had a smile on his face as I finished. As I pressed a kiss to his forehead, he clasped my hand again and gave a soft sigh.

'Thank you,' he breathed as he rolled over.

'My Frodo,' I whispered, and backed out of the room and gently shut the door behind me.

* * *

**Highday 22****nd****, Late. Last Entry:**

That's it. I've done it. I left the party with a bang – helped by Gandalf, of course – one might say, and they will be talking about it for years to come, I don't doubt. I said goodbye to Frodo beforehand, and he knows i will not be here once he gets back.

I have given the ring to Gandalf. He was in the smial when I got here from making my escape, and this was his advice. While at first I was reluctant, I now feel ready for anything. There is a spring in my step and I feel whole, again. I am glad its care is now given over to another. I hope Frodo will keep it as safe as I have done.

I have my bags all packed, my red book included. I shall finish my story when I reach Rivendell. There perhaps I can avail Elrond to aid me in remembering certain details - my memory has faded slightly in my dotage!

Earlier, in my speech (customary at parties, of course) what was it I said? Ah, yes: _"This is the END. I am going now. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!" _

As I said this last bit, I caught Frodo's eye. _My dearest boy,_ I thought at him, and I hope he understood. And then I disappeared.

And it _is _the end – of an era, yes; but not of my _life_. I have many years left in me yet! There is so much I want to see again. Perhaps I shall let my feet wander on my way, and see whither they will lead me.

After all, the road goes ever on and on. Now it is time for me to see where my road leads, and what lies at the end of it.

_Finis_

* * *

_***The last verse of The Elves' Lullaby that they sing to Bilbo when he arrives at Rivendell on his way home from The Lonely Mountain.**_

_**A/N: The end! :) I hope you have enjoyed it. I certainly have enjoyed writing it! **_

_**Thank you so much for reading, and especially big thanks to everyone who reviewed and added this to their fav/follows lists. I really do appreciate it! Your comments have kept me inspired and have been such a huge help, so thank you! **_

_**I really do hope you have enjoyed this story. :)**_


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